Chainlinks of Ice
by Sereni T
Summary: Before Ashe was the queen of the Freljord, she was merely a young woman with grand dreams. A look into what may have happened had her story been less idyllic. Basically, insert Thresh into Ashe's lore, watch fireworks. Warning: Thresh being Thresh. (On hiatus. For real this time.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: League of Legends really needs more fanfic. There's not much to read in this fandom.**

 **Read a soulmates fic, in which one pairing was this. Can't remember who it was by, but if that author is reading this, it's obvious I liked many aspects of the story. Anyway, I realized this isn't all consistent with Ashe's lore, but I'll just call it creative license or an AU. Better than "I forgot to read her lore before writing."**

 **Thanks for reading.**

* * *

 **I – There is life. There is death. And then there is me.**

Ashe followed the hawk.

The freezing air burnt her throat and lungs, and her legs were beginning to stumble, but she ran. She followed the hawk. It was leading her somewhere, and if she'd gone mad and was following an animal to its nest – well. It didn't matter, not really, not when her own people hunted her.

Her own people, who were chasing her with swords and bows and deadly intent. Why? Did they truly hate her that much? She had seen resentment over her declaration of peace, yes, and dissatisfaction with her, a young woman, as a leader, but murder? Certainly not. And they came to kill her, there was no mistake. They'd kill her and her body would lie under the snow, forgotten, with nobody to remember – no!

She shook her head. Shouldn't think about that, she scolded herself. Fortunately, the hawk had stopped ahead, so either she had reached her destination or she was a fool. A dead fool-

Ashe saw the hawk's landing site. It was an old, stone construction, and she gladly entered the open doorway. At the very least, a place to rest, free from the bitter cold, would be nice.

Her harsh breaths echoed strangely inside. Something prickled at her senses, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. This place was – she hesitated to say creepy, unsettling was a better word. There was something…

"I feel like I should know this place," Ashe murmured to herself. The thought made no sense, as she'd never been here, but still.

A few more steps and something loomed up ahead. It was difficult to see in the gloom, but it almost looked like a… like a stone coffin. Was this someone's gravesite? She glanced back toward the way she'd come, stomach suddenly roiling. The hawk was nowhere to be seen.

As Ashe walked up to the coffin, the uneasy feeling intensified. Now it seemed as if she was being watched. Perhaps this mausoleum was haunted by vengeful ghosts, angry at her intrusion. She gulped. If she could find a name, that might help her understand this place's purpose.

The coffin was old, but well preserved, and the bottom half was imbedded in a pedestal of ice. She wiped a hand over the top, clearing it of dust, and a name became visible. It was an old form of her language, but still readable. Her eyes widened as she read –

"Avarosa."

Avarosa. Avarosa, the queen one of the three sisters in the legends. "Why bring me here?" she shouted into the still air. "Why? To taunt me? Queen Avarosa. Queen, the title that will never be mine, not when I can't even lead my tribe without them calling for blood!" Ashe scowled, breaths coming in rough gasps. "Taunting my dreams of peace? Fitting, I suppose, as I haven't yet met anyone who thinks it's not an impossible dream at best and a fool's quest that will ruin us all at worst. Why not add another to the list?"

Silence, again, seeming more eerie after her outburst of sound. She glanced around, still finding no one there, but unable to shake the feeling of being watched. Tales she once heard as a child, of the Watchers, came to mind. She quickly banished those thoughts.

She looked down at the coffin again, then stepped back in shock. The hawk stood serenely on the coffin lid, looking for all the world as if it had been there all along. This close, it was evident that it was no normal bird. Not brown and white and lively, its coloring was blue-white-clear and it moved not an inch. She might have mistaken it for an ice statue, in different circumstances.

Ashe frowned at the bird. "What is it, then?" she snapped. "Why have you led me here? Is this where I am to die?"

The ice-hawk flitted off the lid, then looked at her expectantly.

The archer and the bird stared each other off for several seconds, before Ashe realized she was having a staring contest with an animal, no matter its strange coloring or mannerisms. She sighed. "I don't suppose you could tell me what it is you want me to do," she said.

The bird pecked the side of the coffin a few times, then resumed staring at her. She frowned. The… coffin? She was supposed to do something with it? There was nothing to be done with coffins, they were for burial purposes, except – except –

Her eyes widened. "You expect me to open this?" she asked, pointing. The hawk inclined its head, then pecked the coffin's side again.

"But – the disrespect!" Ashe exclaimed. "This is Avarosa's grave!" The bird resumed its stare, somehow conveying it thought she was being stupid.

Then, voices outside.

"She's gotta be in here," growled a male voice, echoes carrying the sound to her. "Couldn't see her from the top of the hill, so unless she went and died off of the cold and saved us some work, she's in here."

"I don't like this place," said another. "Feels like something's watching."

"Oh, just get searching, won't you?"

Ashe swore and pried up the stone lid. For a moment, she feared it was too heavy, but after the initial resistance it seemed to come to life of its own accord.

Pale blue light radiated from the inside, and she swallowed her displeasure at having to see what was probably a skeleton to look at its source. The light came from a bow, seemingly made of ice. She'd never seen anything like it before, but she knew it was –

"True ice," she muttered. "This is Avarosa's bow." She tore her gaze away from the bow to look at the queen herself, who was decidedly not a skeleton, but seemed as if she were only sleeping, frozen in time. A young, white-haired woman in ceremonial dress, eyes closed and face serene, hands clasped on her chest.

Ashe had no more than a few seconds to gaze at the once-queen, before rapidly approaching footsteps shook her out of her reverie. They'd caught up, and there was nowhere to run. She was going to die – no. No, not today, not for a long time. She muttered an apology to Avarosa, then picked up the true ice bow from its resting place.

Cold.

An all-pervading cold that spread from the hand which picked up the bow to the roots of her hair to her feet, chilling her blood and numbing her bones. This was it, Ashe thought wildly, Avarosa was going to kill her for daring to desecrate her resting place. Well, it was a rather better way to die than being murdered by her own people.

As suddenly as the cold started, it stopped. Ashe found that she had collapsed against the side of the coffin, which had somehow closed again. And… and she still held the bow, which chilled her fingers slightly but otherwise didn't hurt. And her would-be murderers stood but ten yards from her position, hesitating for an unknown reason. She quickly got to her feet.

"Er, do we still –" one of the insurgents began. She knew him, he sold furs to travelers, she'd greeted him on occasion.

"It doesn't matter," another snarled. Mother used to invite her over sometimes, back when –

"Came all the way out here, just do it." A bear of a man, he had two daughters she'd seen just earlier that day.

They charged. Ashe's fingers rose in the familiar motion of drawing an arrow, but there was no arrow, until a volley of ice arrows formed on the string and flew, sharp points striking true into armor and flesh. That gave them pause, and she didn't waste the chance, loosing another volley before ducking behind the coffin for cover from the delayed return flurry of wooden arrows and a few spears.

She settled into a rhythm. Feel ice, then draw and shoot. Nothing came closer than grazing her, and the scrapes felt strangely numb, not hurting as much as they should. Her attackers fell. They stopped trying to attack, at some point. They may have tried to run, but her arrows cut them down before they'd taken two steps.

And then she was alone with the dead.

Slow, mocking applause from behind her, where she was sure there'd been no one. "Wasn't that interesting?" said a voice like madness.

* * *

Ashe was acutely aware she should probably turn around – unknowns at her back were never a good idea – but her instincts rebelled against the idea. She didn't want to know what had spoken. All of a sudden, she was a child again, hiding under the covers, hoping the monster would go away. But the difference was, those monsters had been the imaginings of a frightened child. This…

"Rather rude of you to not look at someone who's speaking to you," said the voice. Casually, like a friend commenting on how well her hunt had gone. Ashe shivered.

"I apologize," she said stiffly. "I find myself rather overwhelmed, having just k-killed people I believed to be my friends." Oh, gods above, she'd killed them and they were dead by her hand. Her own people, even if they'd attacked first, and that was mothers and fathers and children who would never come home, a pain that wouldn't heal, and if she had stayed her hand when they were trying to escape –

"Friends?" said the… thing behind her, still pleasantly. "I should think attempted murder would more than disqualify anyone from that category."

"I still don't like killing," Ashe said through gritted teeth.

"You don't?" A sense of movement, displaced air, and she stiffened. "Well, this is a terrible distance to appreciate a death from. You have to be close. To see their hope slowly fleeing, even as they desperately cling on to their will to live. To see their eyes slowly glaze as they realize that yes, this is their end, and they can't change a thing. To see them shatter into pieces and to know you're the one who's doing this, the one who holds their fate. And they all break in the end, no matter how strong they seem. No one wants to die."

A pause.

"No," she forced out. "I don't like killing."

The voice continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Far too clean, these deaths, anyhow. The souls would be served well with, oh, an eternity of torment or so. Ah, well, I can fix that."

At that, Ashe's composure finally broke. She spun around, intending to demand answers, no matter how creepy – unnerving – and she found a grinning black-green skull far too close to her. She yelped, stumbling backward a few steps. What – she always noticed when someone was that close to her!

Seeing her reaction, the smile on the skull/face transformed from unnerving to downright terrifying. Ashe noticed she was hyperventilating, and quickly slowed her breathing, tearing her eyes away from that grin. She took in the robe lined with – were those bones? – and the scythe and the chains.

"Reaper," she breathed.

"Archer," the reaper returned.

Reaper. She was going to die. The thought was somehow funny, and she nearly failed to stifle a giggle. After everything. After killing her own people, and was it just her or did that thought come easier? Ashe shook her head. Had to focus. Say something clever, she thought to herself.

"My name is Ashe, not 'archer'," she said, then winced. That was a failure. She glanced at the coffin, in vain hope that Avarosa or the hawk would aid her somehow, but the hawk was nowhere to be found and the coffin remained shut. It was a silly hope, anyway.

"And my name is Thresh," said the reaper. "Though it wouldn't mean anything to you, I suppose."

"It doesn't."

"That would explain why you haven't run screaming yet. Not that it would do you any good."

"I think it's mostly that I'm not quite in my right mind," Ashe replied automatically. Then the words registered, and she took a step back.

The reaper – Thresh laughed, a grating, echoing sound that chilled her in a way unlike cold or ice. He took a gliding step forward, invalidating her efforts to put distance between them.

Ashe snuck a glance at the exit. It was slightly blocked by the… corpses, but if she ran she could reach it in seconds. It was hardly a choice. She bolted, heart hammering.

One step, two, three, wait what was that sound –

Something caught her around the waist, tearing at her clothes and dragging her back. She flailed for a moment, then landed in an undignified heap on the ground. Blinking away bright spots, it slowly registered that Thresh's scythe had a chain attached to it, and he'd thrown it to catch her. More lengths of chain whipped out, tangling around her limbs and preventing her from rising.

She was probably going to die, now, she thought, closing her eyes. How anticlimactic. The adrenaline had passed, and Ashe was left feeling tired. Probably couldn't mount an effective defense if she tried, she mused.

So she waited.

And waited some more.

When a few minutes had passed and she was decidedly not dead, Ashe cracked open an eye. Thresh was standing over the bodies of the people she'd – killed, holding a glowing green lantern, but it was difficult to tell what he was doing from her angle. He was ignoring her, or so it seemed.

Perhaps, she could – no. She winced as her attempts to move only succeeded in entangling herself further and opening cuts on her skin where the sharp chain links caught. Worse, the noise attracted Thresh's attention. As he turned and began walking sedately toward her, the trepidation she'd thought lost to sheer exhaustion rose again, making her heart pound in her ears. Thresh stopped a bare few feet away from her. Far too close.

"If you're going to kill me, just do it," Ashe croaked, breaking the silence.

He laughed again, the sound making her skin crawl and every human part of her want to get as far away from its source as possible. "If you knew anything about me," he chuckled, "you would know death to be a far kinder fate than me."

Ashe's stomach sank.

"But, no," he continued. "You won't come to any harm by me today." He paused, as if reflecting. "Wait, this is the Freljord, the sun won't be up until – let's say today means the next twenty-four hours. That seems reasonable, if not generous."

Despite everything, his obvious unfamiliarity with the day-night cycles this far north caused a quiet giggle to escape Ashe. The sound was strained, and she stifled it quickly.

"What?" Thresh asked, sounding hurt. The hurt had to be fake, of course, but it sounded so genuine, so absurd, that her efforts to quiet herself failed. Several heartbeats, and she choked down the giggles again, causing them to trail off into a coughing fit.

By the time she quieted, he actually looked mildly annoyed. "I'm sorry, it's just – never mind, I'm sorry," she said, trying to recover her breath.

"If you're quite done, then run along back to wherever you came from," he said. "I have souls to finish collecting, not to mention torture, and I'd appreciate fewer distractions."

Ashe's initial relief turned into a blanch. Did he say – souls – he collected souls? From who, the dead? But they – she opened her mouth to protest, but a glare from Thresh had her reconsidering her words. "Would you mind untangling me?" she squeaked after some moments.

"From what?"

She glanced down, gesturing, only to find the chain that tripped her had vanished. A look told her the scythe was back in its proper position, at Thresh's side, too. Strange, certainly, but stranger things had already happened that day, and she wasn't inclined to push her luck

She was nearly down the hall, close to a corner that would blessedly take her out of Thresh's vision, when a thought occurred to her. So trivial, in the face of things, but basic respect …

"Thresh?" she asked hesitantly.

The named party looked at her.

That look nearly made her abandon her cause and just run, morals be damned, but she forged onward. "The – these bodies," Ashe said, gesticulating wildly, "would you mind – I mean, this is Avarosa's resting place, and it isn't right for unburied dead to – to be here?" Her uncertainty turned the last part into a question. So much for not pushing her luck.

Thresh smiled, but it held no humor. "Corpses are hardly my field, but I know whose they are… yes, worry not. They will be disposed of."

Ashe shivered and turned around. This time, she didn't look back.

She ran again, following nothing but her own feet.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Canon Ashe is kind of boring. But I think, before she became queen and all that jazz, she was much less confident and secure in her power. That's a lot more interesting, especially for interactions.**

 **Also, feel like this chapter is too short. But eh, this is where Plot deems is a good break, so nothing to be done. Thanks for reading.**

* * *

 **II – Never lose focus.**

In all fairness, her day hadn't been that long, but multiple adrenaline crashes meant Ashe's first priority was sleep. Unfortunately, the reasons for which she wanted sleep were the same as those which prevented her from it. Irony was indeed a cruel mistress.

Her first clue that things would not be going her way was when the first person to notice her return blanched, then ran up to her to confirm her identity. Apparently, her hair had turned white, a rather stark difference from the normal brown it had been before. That led to a gauntlet of uncomfortable questions that had to be repeated upon each new gawker, but being a leader meant responsibility. Ashe simultaneously wondered how she hadn't noticed the change, and if it was too late to resign and move somewhere no one recognized her. Piltover was always fine this time of year, she heard.

"I believe my hair's color change occurred when I picked up the bow," she repeated for the umpteenth time, this time to her council of advisors. Some of which were conspicuously absent, but she could deal with that later. "After that, I was attacked by the rogue party tracking me, therefore –"

"And you claim this is Avarosa's bow," an old man interrupted. Ashe was probably aware of his name, but being at the end of her rope, she felt uninclined to remember trivial facts at the moment.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Yes, it is, as far as I am aware. Now, as I was saying, I was attacked by the group following me, by Avarosa's coffin. I defended myself."

"By her – next to Avarosa's grave?" another man yelped. "But to fight near such a hallowed site – if what you claim is true –"

"I. Was. Attacked," Ashe stated through gritted teeth. She could practically feel her sanity begin to fray, so she said no more, lest she regret her words. Instead, she levelled a glare at the half-ring of useless "advisors" in attendance, silently daring them to speak.

None did.

She forced a pleasant smile. "If there are no further questions?" she asked, her tone clearly expressing that there had better not be.

Some opened their mouths, so she narrowed her eyes, reinforcing her glare. She also tightened her grip on Avarosa's bow, which she had held ever since she picked it up. A moment passed in silence.

"Good." Ashe stood up, turned, and left, angling for blessed sleep. At last.

But not before noticing dissentious mutterings as soon as she turned her back.

* * *

She dreamt.

She found herself standing in front of Avarosa's coffin. Footsteps approached. The hawk was nowhere to be seen.

She pulled up on the lid. It moved not an inch. The steps were getting closer. She braced herself against the ground, leveraging her upper body to open the coffin. It was immovable.

They were here. But she did not know them, did not recognize them. They stood twice again as tall as they had been in life, faces twisted in rictuses of hate. Their weapons were blunt clubs, and spiked balls attached to chains, and bare fists.

They descended upon her. She closed her eyes.

A second passed, or perhaps an eternity.

She opened her eyes again, and they lay broken on the cold stone floor. No longer giants, no longer holding weapons, only small, beaten bodies, eyes staring unseeingly upward, accusing, asking why, why would she do this –

A voice behind her. "You don't like killing?"

She shook her head mutely.

"I suppose it would be hard to appreciate it from here. Why don't you take a closer look?"

Her feet carried her forward without her mind's permission. As she approached, flickers of green appeared above the corpses, a multitude of wisps resolving into ghosts as she watched. They all screamed. Then they saw her, and screams of agony became screams of hate.

They rushed at her. She didn't move. This, this was her retribution, she'd killed them, and now it was her time. But the ghosts never reached her. Instead, they flickered and were drawn off to the side, draining like snowmelt into mountain streams into a glowing lantern. Gone. Saving her, or damning her?

Laughter. She tried to move, and found she couldn't. The laughter intensified, reverberating off the walls and ceiling and floor for a minute/an hour/a year/a forever.

The same voice – she knew that voice – spoke again, spoke her name. "Ashe."

She still couldn't move, her muscles locked and feet frozen to the floor.

"Ashe, wake up."

Wake up?

"Archer, I am becoming impatient."

Asleep? A dream? Yes. Wake up.

* * *

Ashe woke up, then immediately found herself questioning if she actually had or if she was trapped in another nightmare. She made to scream, but a parched throat turned her attempt into a series of coughs. She closed her eyes again, rubbing dried tear-streaks off her cheeks, then counted to ten before looking again.

No, Thresh was still there.

"How are you here? I have guards outside," she rasped.

Thresh somehow gave the impression of raising an eyebrow, though he had none. "That is your first question?" he said. "I find myself unimpressed. You've only just woken up, though, so I'll give you the, ah, benefit of the doubt."

"Well, then enlighten me," Ashe snapped, "as to what should I ask instead? Putting aside the fact that you're next to where I sleep for the moment, of course."

"I'm delighted you asked," he said. "Instead of asking how I can be here when you have guards, ask yourself, 'If my guards are useless, who else might be able to get in?'"

"They're not useless," she said reflexively, before the rest of his statement registered. "Wait, what do you mean?"

Pretending to have not heard her, Thresh continued, "Honestly, I'm surprised you first question wasn't something like 'Are you going to kill me?' That tends to be the first, usually." He smiled.

Kill – what – Ashe shook her head. She had an inevitable panic attack planned for later, whenever she found a reprieve long enough, save it for then. "You haven't explained your meaning when you told me I should ask who else could get in," she said instead.

"Oh, yes. That." Thresh paused. "You had an assassin."

A beat.

Ashe swore and attempted to roll off her bed, before realizing that action would put her on the side Thresh stood. She tried to stop her momentum, but instead ended up tumbling off the foot of the bed, nursing bruises. She huffed.

"How dignified."

"Assassin," Ashe ground out, stumbling to her feet. "What."

"You needn't worry yourself," said Thresh. "I did say you had an assassin. Not have. Note the tense. I assure you, he is in no position to cause difficulties."

She blinked blearily, turning his words over in her mind, as realization slowly dawned. "What have you done?" she asked, dread rising.

"If it causes you so much distress, perhaps I shouldn't worry you any more," he replied.

Ashe scowled, taking deep breaths to calm herself, before she did something regrettable. No, didn't hardly help. "At this point," she began, "half my tribe has begun practically worshipping me, with most of the rest still coming no closer to me than ten feet, and I can state with reasonable certainty that the others are plotting my murder! I can hardly be more distressed than I am now!" Her voice rose at the end of her rant, coming dangerously close to breaking.

"Then you ought to be glad to know the last group has one fewer member," Thresh said. "Though, why that group still exists confuses me. You could use this assassin as an excuse to be rid of all of them, perhaps, if you need a reason. After all, allowing dissent to fester only implies weakness, and if you give an inch –"

"Leave."

He stopped talking.

"I said leave!" Ashe repeated. "I can't deal with – just go!"

Thresh still didn't move.

"Please –" her voice cracked, "– leave, I can't have – leave me to myself."

"As you wish," he said finally, and vanished.

Ashe collapsed onto her bed like a puppet with its strings cut, energy spent, and buried her face into a pillow and screamed. It didn't dispel her anxiety. It didn't alleviate her confusion. It didn't explain her sudden, strange loneliness at the empty room. It didn't help.

She couldn't fall asleep again afterward.

* * *

Morning found Ashe standing outside, staring up at the moon. The air was no warmer than it had been during the night, and the pale rays were no replacement for golden sunlight filtering through the clouds, and suddenly, absurdly, she wished the Freljord were further south. It was a silly thought – it would hardly be the Freljord if the days and nights were reliable sun-moon cycles, or if there were no near-constant chill in the air.

She could travel, move, she pondered. Go somewhere no one knew her face or name, where her now snow-white hair would pass unnoticed, nothing more than an oddity. But even as she wished, she knew it to be impossible. Simply because there were no physical chains holding her here, did not mean she could leave. She had a dream to fulfill, a home to bring to peace, and for the first time Ashe allowed herself to consider the sheer enormity of that goal. She was one person, and the Freljord was so large.

She gazed toward the horizon. The ice and snow stretched out farther than her eyes could see.

"I miss you, mother," Ashe whispered. "I do. You wouldn't agree with my dream, I know, but you would push me. You would ensure that no one could ever see me falter. Wouldn't you?"

An endless moment passed, and she sighed and turned away from the ice. Loneliness was not an emotion she could afford, now or ever. There was a possible assassination plot to uncover, leadership to solidify, many, many plans to make, and, she privately admitted, perhaps someone to apologize to.

Assuming she saw him again. Which she hoped she wouldn't. It was a ridiculous sentiment, to want to apologize, and it would be best for everyone's sake that she never see him again, no?

Ashe looked out one more time across the frozen landscape, imagining her worries were the wind, blowing away from her.

It would be best if she never saw Thresh again, and she resolved to repeat that conviction until she had convinced herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Alright, is it a thing that doesn't put an update date if you update too soon? Looks like it.**

 **Not much else to say. Things happen here, and it's longer than the last one?**

 **It's really nice having Friday off. Sorry if you don't.**

 **Again, thanks for reading. Y'alls inflate my ego. :3**

* * *

 **III – What is the worth of a soul?**

In the Freljord, there were no birds chirping or green shoots sprouting to alert its denizens of winter giving way to spring, but Ashe had lived there all her life. For her, it was easy to detect the change in the air, the slow increase in animal tracks, and the gradual lightening of the sky.

In a way, it was appreciated. With spring came more resources, as well as the intangible hope for a new beginning.

As it turned out, there had been an assassination plot against her – emphasis on the "had been". The perpetrators had vanished mysteriously. It did not sit well with Ashe, but she claimed responsibility for the disappearances anyway, implying quiet imprisonment. It was impossible to prove otherwise, as there were no bodies, a fact that only exacerbated her anxiety. At any rate, if she hadn't claimed to be responsible, it would imply something or someone she had no awareness of was vanishing people.

She knew her logic for taking responsibility was sound, but privately questioned her objectivity. Of course, that led to a mess of worries and emotional conflict she had to sort through sometime, but kept ignoring. There was always something more important to be done.

And there was, of course. Plans upon plans to be made, and the tribe was an organizational nightmare, mostly because the council had refused to meet again. They hadn't come out and said it, but it was abundantly clear their refusal was out of self-preservation. That stung more than it had any right to.

Another topic to… discuss with Thresh, if he ever showed up again. It would be best for all involved if he never set foot in the Freljord again, but… there were so many questions. Why he was here in the first place, why he hadn't killed her. What did he want?

Ashe sighed. She was, ostensibly, finishing her requests for diplomatic meetings with neighboring tribes, but she had made no progress in the past hour. Now, she found herself glaring at the half-finished formal phrases as if they were the cause of all her troubles. Which was silly – they were a symptom, not the cause, therefore, it signaled that she needed a break before she snapped.

She stood, stretching, before neatly adding the documents to the large unfinished stack of papers. It was a nice day for a walk.

Ashe's tribe gave her a wide berth as she walked, as if her white hair somehow exuded a repelling field around her. Most of them spoke much less to her, now, perhaps out of some misguided respect. Making herself more approachable was on her list of things to fix later, but for now, avoidance and deference were a sight better than killing intent, so she let it lie.

Nevertheless, it was a blessing to finally stride out onto the tundra, crest a hill, and be out of the range of gawkers. Out here, there was peace.

"Some time alone is quite appreciable," Ashe admitted to herself.

She spoke too soon.

A sound behind her, a quiet clink of metal on metal –

"The ice is melting."

"Ice tends to do that," she drawled, turning around.

"I was under the impression that ice didn't melt here," said Thresh.

"Well, not the permafrost, but the upper layers do…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "Thresh, why are you here?"

"Would you prefer me to leave?" he asked.

"No! Yes. I don't know!" Ashe threw her hands in the air, a gesture of resignation.

"Very sure of yourself, I see."

She shook her head violently, white locks flying back and forth. "I want to apologize."

"For what?"

"For being – for saying – never mind," she said, then quickly continued before he could comment. "I have some questions to ask you."

He smirked. "Then ask, though I'm certainly not bound to answer," he said.

"Why are you here?"

"What, am I not allowed to pay a casual visit to the illustrious Queen Ashe?"

He mocker her. She briefly considered telling him to not call her that, before realizing that would, most likely, only prompt him to continue doing it. "You know full well that was not my meaning," she growled.

"In fact, I didn't. Enlighten me, archer?" he said, performing a sarcastic bow.

"Why are you here, in the Freljord?" Ashe asked, resolving to ignore his mockery.

"You imply this is not my home?" he needled.

"I'm very sure it's not."

He huffed, smirk vanishing. "Then, perhaps I am on vacation."

"Vacation," she repeated incredulously, crossing her arms.

"You don't believe me?"

"This is hardly the most pleasant location to visit for a vacation."

"Oh, I assure you, it's far more pleasant than my own home," Thresh said. "For a start, there are living things here."

Ashe swept her gaze around the frozen landscape. "Regardless of whether or not I find your logic sound, I didn't take you for one who would be bothered by a lack of life."

"Why, Ashe, you know me so well," he said with feigned surprise. She stared at him, unimpressed. Seconds passed.

"If you must know," he hissed finally, "I come from the Shadow Isles. That spider was beginning to grate on my nerves again, so I decided to leave for a while."

The Shadow Isles – the island chain haunted by the undead, where no sane person would step foot. Ashe's eyes widened. But when he referred to a spider –

"Now, I know your next question is why here, so allow me to preempt it. I'd heard some interesting stories several years ago, about this place," he continued.

"Interesting stories?" she prompted.

"Undead are a scarcity outside of home sweet home. When I heard of some elsewhere, I simply felt… obligated to investigate."

The dots connected. "Stories – Iceborn," she muttered. "The Watchers –"

"You know something?" said Thresh.

Ashe shook her head, but then nodded after a moment's consideration. "I suppose, but it's really only legends. Old tales. There was a story about a bridge, over an abyss…"

"Interesting. However, it's moot now, as my reason for staying here has changed," he said.

Her instincts blared an alarm. She took a step back. "What is this reason?" she asked warily.

Thresh leered. "I don't believe I'll be telling you that. You'll have to guess, if you truly want to know."

Deep breaths, Ashe told herself, attempting to control her suddenly racing heart. She was being irrational.

"Another question. Why have you been following me?" she asked. And not killed me? Was the silent addition.

"I'm hardly following you. It's not as if you make an effort to conceal your location. A blind man could find you," he replied.

Her eyes narrowed. "I asked why."

Thresh didn't speak for a minute.

"You said you want peace," he said at last. The non-sequitur made her blink.

"Yes," she said, "but how does that relate to my question?"

"Patience, I'll get there," he said. "Now, you want peace. Do you believe everyone will immediately take you at your word, and assume it's not a trap? Or that no one will see it as a symptom of weakness and attack you?" He shook his head. "No, you're not stupid, you realize."

"I do," Ashe confirmed. "I'm well aware it won't be easy."

"See, but you still underestimate. Not everyone is as, ah, altruistic as you are. Even the people you call your own, but you haven't seen some of the tribes I have…"

"And your point is?" she asked cautiously.

"There's a saying, that if you wish for peace, you must prepare for war." Thresh grinned. "As they are now, the tribes have a stalemate of sorts. With border skirmishes, but it never becomes war. But, you will disrupt the balance, you, with your pure intentions, and the effects will cascade. I've seen the volatility further away."

Ashe shivered.

"The ice will be dyed red."

"…So – so what?" she snarled. "You disparage me too? I hardly need anyone else calling me a fool, telling me that a united Freljord is a useless daydream. And there won't be – "

"No, no," Thresh cut her off. "I'm not discouraging you. Quite the opposite."

"What? Why?"

"I believe you know."

Her eyes then drifted to the lantern at her side, recalling offhand comments and an irrational nightmare, and she paled. "You monster," she accused.

He laughed, the sound echoing in her mind.

"It won't happen like you think," Ashe said, voice unwavering, unlike her conviction. "I swear, I swear on my ancestors' graves, I will not bring Freljord to war. We will be united peacefully."

Thresh ceased laughing, and looked at her sideways. It seemed he was taking her seriously, but that thought didn't calm her nerves.

"How sure are you?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"How sure are you, that you won't spill blood?"

"If I bring my home to war, may the gods strike me down where I stand," Ashe said.

He chuckled, but quickly quieted. "If you're so confident, how about we make a game of it?"

"The fate of the Freljord is not a game," she spat.

"Very well, how about we make a deal?" he rephrased.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Should you accomplish your goal with no more blood spilled than is usual for this place, I swear to never collect souls here again," said Thresh.

"What is the timeframe for this?" Ashe asked, mind racing. Why would he promise that? Wasn't his entire purpose to take souls? She was missing something, and that thought caused apprehension to rise like early morning mists on the mountains.

"Your lifespan," he said, amused. "But, aren't there any other questions whose answers you'd like to know?"

Yes, but she didn't want to ask the questions. Vague apprehension became dread.

"What happens if I – if too much blood is shed?" she asked quietly, reluctantly. "What do you want?"

Thresh's smile widened unnaturally. "Your soul."

* * *

Her first thought was no. Most people's probably would be, when faced with that question, even if there was hardly a large sample to ask. Her second thought was that his request made no sense.

"Why?" Ashe blurted.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific," Thresh said. "Why what?"

"You could just kill me now. Why bother to ask?" she said.

He scowled, features darkening. Was he actually offended? "What do you take me for?" he hissed. "One of your two-bit serial killers, who leaves a corpse, calls his work finished, and moves on?"

"I'm sorry?" Ashe said, inching backward subtly.

"Yes, you had better be. I would never be so wasteful," he snarled.

"Wasteful?" she asked. Her slow progress in opening the distance between them continued.

"Killing someone and taking their soul? Easily accomplished, and barely worth the effort. It's the personal touch that makes things worth it. If I killed you now, it would be easy to blame me, wouldn't it?" Thresh shook his head. "That was rhetorical. My point is, I would then have to deal with your self-justified anger until I broke it, and that exercise grew stale many decades ago. And it would be a waste of such a delicious soul."

She flinched.

"But an agreement, made of you own free will? Much harder to pin the blame on me, hm? I know your type. You'd shift to blaming yourself. Self-hatred forms wonderful cracks in a soul, you know."

Apparently oblivious to her growing alarm, he continued, grinning wickedly. "Besides, should you find yourself in that position, it would mean you'd already failed in your dream," he said, words spearing like blades into her chest. "And with all you've lost, your dream is all you have left. Isn't it?" he finished softly.

"Monster," Ashe whispered, but it held no bite, and the lack of true response condemned her.

Thresh covered the space between them in a single gliding stride. She barely had time to react before he caught her chin in his hand, tipping her head up so her gaze met the glowing pits where his eyes should've been. She stared, transfixed, unable to tear her eyes away.

"I never claimed to be anything less," he said softly. Almost kindly.

She had to make him stop talking.

"I accept," Ashe murmured.

"Hm, what was that? I couldn't hear you," he taunted, trailing cold fingers down the side of her face.

"I said, I accept!" she yelled, restrained emotion leaking through the cracks in her composure, like the tears escaping from her eyes. Avarosa lend her courage. "I accept your damned deal!"

He smiled at her. It was not a nice smile.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: New chapter, in which Thresh is a questionable therapist, because I can't believe Ashe would get over her mother's death that easily. And Bad Things happen. Jeez, this turned out darker than I expected. I'll try to write fluffier things.**

 **So, does anyone know what genre I should put this in? I was thinking Friendship, but there's also Drama, Fantasy, Adventure, Horror, Hurt/Comfort… so I'm not sure.**

 **Thanks for reading. Leave a review? YOUR +1s FEED ME.  
**

* * *

 **IV – One tribe. One people. One Freljord.**

Peace talks were going well. Trade was opening up, and friendly relationships had generally been established. Had Ashe been inclined to be pessimistic, she'd think things were going too well, and expect something to go horribly wrong soon. But she wasn't, so she didn't.

Until she realized her next meeting was to be with the tribe her mother had died to.

Her hands crumpled the edges of the letter confirming the date of the meeting – that very day. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she slammed the document back onto her desk and stormed outside.

The crisp air cooled her initial rage, allowing for more rational thought. Intellectually, Ashe knew her mother's death to not be a personal insult, but rather, the consequence of the state of the Freljord at the time. Even having accepted that fact, she didn't trust her emotions to not betray her at the worst time.

Perhaps she could assign someone else to go? But there was no one else she trusted, and not showing up herself would be misconstrued as disrespect. There was nothing else to do but go, and focus on maintaining her composure. For everyone's sake.

A quick walk would do her some good, she decided. The landscape always soothed her nerves, and it was hardly as if she could discuss feelings with anyone in her tribe.

The sky was a shade lighter than yesterday, and Ashe sat down on the frozen earth to admire the effect it had on the clouds. The Freljord was beautiful, and anyone who claimed otherwise had never seen the pristine white after a snowstorm, or the brilliantly colored auroras. She wanted to save this place, to let all people live here without fighting hanging over their heads like storm clouds.

The sound of metal hitting metal –

"You seem troubled," Thresh commented, taking a seat beside her.

"How did you know?" she asked.

He shrugged. "You're out here instead of doing your work, which I'm sure you have plenty of."

So he hadn't been stalking her? Ashe didn't know which option was more unsettling – he was following her, or he could guess her emotional state so easily.

Instead of continuing that train of thought, she said, "My next scheduled meeting? It is with the tribe my mother died to."

"And the problem is?"

She stared at him. Did he truly not understand, or – wait. Did he even have family, or anyone he cared for?

"She was my mother!" Ashe exclaimed. "We may have agreed on practically nothing, and she was hardly affectionate, but she was still my mother."

"You misunderstand," said Thresh. "How does that keep you from doing your job? Or are you giving up so easily?" He leered.

She sighed, indignation drained. "I suppose it doesn't, really, apart from my own feelings. And that's rather selfish of me, isn't it? I'm hardly the only one who has lost family or friends."

"Family is such a transient concept, anyhow," he said. "A mere quirk of birth. Those ties break so easily."

"What are you saying? That she shouldn't be important to me?" she asked.

"Take it as you will," he said, shrugging.

"She really wasn't important to anyone but me, beyond her position as leader of the tribe," Ashe mused. "And – I don't wish for peace for any one person, not even myself. I want it for people as a whole. I can't fixate on such trivial things, like how reluctant I am to go because I still miss her."

She stood, brushing dirt and ice flakes off her clothing. "Thank you."

"For what?" Thresh said.

She shook her head wordlessly and left.

* * *

Why had Ashe been so worried?

The diplomacy was wrapping up, with trade agreements and a non-violence policy about to be signed. Her earlier anxiety seemed completely irrational. These were not the people who had killed her mother. These were reasonable human beings who had nothing to gain from more warfare.

She stood, shaking hands with the other tribe's chief. All she had to do was retrieve her entourage of guards who stood outside, say a few parting pleasantries, and leave. It hadn't gone differently from her last few meetings.

Outside, someone screamed.

The entire room was instantly on alert. Ashe took two steps toward the exit, before the door flung open to reveal one of her guards.

"It's Hanna," he told her quietly, panting. "She saw – I don't know, she saw someone, and she went crazy. Started attacking."

Caution thrown to the wind, she rushed out, pushing past the guard.

It was… not good, outside. The rest of her guards were restraining one enraged woman – Hanna, and having an uneasy standoff with a group of the other tribe's members. Their weapons were drawn. Ashe tightened her grip on her bow, which she now brought everywhere.

"That bastard killed my brothers!" Hanna screeched. "Don't you dare try to hold me here!"

The scene played out in crystal clarity, motions slowing before her eyes. Hanna elbowed the man holding her around the waist, causing him to flinch back, then charged before the others could catch her again.

Her target, an unassuming man at the front of the group from the other tribe, snarled and brandished his sword. That was the last glimpse she had of the center of the commotion, before the others covered her vision in the start of a fight.

Ashe's stare was glassy. Vaguely, she noticed civilians fleeing, before she was shaken out of her trance by the other tribe's chief.

"I should've known," he barked, reaching for his weapon. His own guards advanced. "Start a peace talk, only to backstab us unprepared? Your mother would be proud. Don't worry, you'll see her soon, so she can praise you." He spat. This was the man she'd thought so reasonable a short time before. "Seize her."

His guards rushed her. Her only blessing was that they hadn't yet surrounded her. She fled through the opening they left, fear driving her at a frantic pace impossible to sustain.

Her race through the streets drew curious gazes, but Ashe couldn't afford to stop. They were on her tail. She had to lose them, had to be safe, for any rational thought or plans to come.

She rounded a corner, turning into the marketplace, then ducked behind a stall. Sweat beaded down her face and neck. Her pursuers stormed past, not noticing her. Safe. For the moment.

Ashe wiped her brow. This situation had to be fixed, lest her fragile progress be ruined. But how? She shifted her grip on her bow, the ice comforting against her feverish skin. The chief was bent on assuming she had laid a trap. How could she convince him otherwise?

A sudden, dark thought she hesitated to call her own – he wouldn't need to be convinced if he wasn't alive to incriminate her. The idea made her skin crawl, but she still considered it. But, no, it wouldn't help. The death would obviously be pinned on her, and it would accelerate the downward spiral.

It was hopeless.

Chains clinking –

"A wonderful dilemma you have here," Thresh said.

Ashe buried her face into her hands, shaking her head. Hopeless. What use was she? She might have prevented this, if only she had talked to the guards she was bringing beforehand. Stupid, stupid.

"No comment? How disappointing."

She had no energy to reply.

A growl. "Your lack of spirit disgusts me. Weren't you so sure of yourself? Where is your conviction?"

"What can I do?" she said at last, voice thin and reedy. "Can't convince that man to see reason. Can't even go back to stop the fighting. I would be attacked on sight, and even if I could bring myself to do it, I cannot defeat half their tribe."

"Look at me," Thresh told her.

She shook her head again.

"That was not a request. Look. At. Me," he repeated.

Ashe wiped her watering eyes and looked.

His expression was thunderous, and it only darkened upon him seeing her face. She curled into herself, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"You speak of the leader of this tribe, correct?" he hissed.

She nodded.

"And your problem is that he thinks you laid a trap, to attack under the pretense of diplomacy?"

"You would know," she muttered. "You have been following me."

His rage seemed to cool slightly, some of it melting into amusement. "Accuse me as much as you wish, your condemnations are unprovable."

"Tch."

"I digress," he said. "What is the real reason for the fighting?"

"One of the guards I brought, Hanna, she once lost her brothers to these people. She was the man who killed them, and her sense fled," she said.

"And you need that man to admit the fault doesn't lie with you."

Ashe snorted. "Yes, but that will hardly happen."

"Oh, I don't know. I'm sure he'll suddenly find himself… convinced."

"What are you planning to do?" she asked sharply, eyes snapping back toward Thresh.

"Solve your problem," he replied.

"What, out of the goodness of your heart? Forgive me for my skepticism."

"Hm. Good point." He paused. "You'll have to punish that guard of yours sometime. How do you feel about… delegating?"

She blanched. "How dare you – I would never let Hanna – she doesn't deserve –"

"I'd think it hardly a price at all, to repair your diplomacy. Did she or did she not ruin your relations with this tribe?" Thresh demanded.

"Well, yes, but she let her emotions overcome her," she sputtered. Wait. Her eyes narrowed. "She isn't anything to you. Why do you want to kill her?"

"Kill? You wound me, archer," he said, sounding hurt. "Besides, while she may be nothing to me, she's clearly something to you. All your people are, no?"

Ashe stared at him in horror.

He grinned. "I take your silence as acceptance of my aid. You may thank me later," he said, then vanished.

She remained frozen.

* * *

The chief looked to have aged years in less than a day. His face had paled dramatically, he hunched in on himself when he stood, and his eyes darted to and fro like a cornered animal.

"I would like… to issue a formal apology to Queen Ashe," he said, and if his halting speech hadn't given away the wrongness of what was happening, his use of the title certainly did. What had Thresh done? Did she want to know?

He continued. "I accused her falsely of calling an attack during… a diplomatic meeting."

Bile rose in Ashe's throat. No one in the crowd seemed to realize how wrong this was. The greatest reaction she observed was vague confusion. How could they not notice? This was their leader!

But she stepped forward and spoke, voice calm and collected and betraying none of her thoughts. "I accept the apology," she said, even as her mind screamed that this was damning her to the depths of the underworld. "It was an unfortunate misunderstanding which will not occur again. I hope it will not affect the relationship between our tribes?"

The man flinched as if she'd struck him. "Of… course not. However, we are prepared to make any reparations necessary."

Wrong, wrong, wrong. Ashe plastered an imitation of a smile onto her face and spoke pretty words, signing a new treaty in front of the applauding crowd. She made it back to the relative privacy of her guards before the expression cracked. For the good of the entire Freljord, she told herself. She still felt dirty inside.

A quick once-over told her none of her guards were dead, with few serious injuries. Nothing life-threatening. They were all here, fit to travel, with one exception.

Hanna was missing.

* * *

Ashe read the treaty again, blinking in bewilderment.

Their warriors answering to her – resources at her disposal – regulation over economy – this was not a peace treaty. This was a declaration of servitude.

Her fault. It was because of her. Those people had to follow the words on this piece of paper, because one man signed it. Because she couldn't find the strength to tell Thresh no, not when the allure of an easy solution called to her, when it was right in front of her.

Easy. Quick. Hardly any cost at all. Only the sanity of one inconvenient man, and of one rash woman, who'd needed a reprimand anyhow.

Hanna had reappeared a scant half hour ago, white-faced and unresponsive. Her tribe assumed it was because she realized she'd nearly ruined Ashe's plan.

An unexpected stab of anger at their blindness shot through her, then fled, leaving her cold. It was not their fault. Nobody was to blame but herself.

Was this what Thresh wanted, what he'd planned? She hurt, because she cared. Or perhaps he believe he was helping her?

The worst part was, his actions did help her. She had her treaty – she had more than her treaty – and a near-disaster had been averted. One which she would've had no idea how to solve herself.

After all, what was the sacrifice of a few in the name of the many? Ashe shuddered. That was a slippery slope she might find herself falling down easily. It was like a frozen lake, one where you couldn't judge the thickness of the ice, but stepped out onto anyway, with no one ready to save you should you fall through. Because there was no other option.

Nobody to save her. The only thing she had was her dream.

She gaze at the dark window by her desk. Her reflection stared back.

"For the Freljord," Ashe said, her mirror image copying her words without sound. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass and stared into her own eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I guess… this is slightly fluffier? At least, the first half?**

 **Involving way too much lore, but I like the story behind the Howling Abyss, so in it goes. I'll make it relevant somehow. Still, the Howling Abyss is not a good destination for spring break, no matter what Thresh thinks. Don't visit murder bridges with psychopaths, children.**

 **Lantern is not a toy. And, er, how graphic is too graphic? My perception is skewed. Someone tell me before I get in trouble with whoever moderates this site.**

 **Updates are gonna slow down soon. Thanks for reading. Favorite and/or follow and/or review if you want.**

* * *

 **V – Death? No… nothing that simple.**

"I need a vacation," Ashe declared. She shoved a stack of papers to the side and stood, yawning.

Thresh glanced at her. "A vacation? You could visit –"

"I am not going to the Shadow Isles."

"I was going to say Piltover," he finished smoothly. At her raised eyebrow, he held up his hands in a "who, me?" gesture.

"No," she sighed. "Too far away. I can't afford to be gone so long, but there are extraordinarily few places worth visiting nearby."

"What about the bridge you told me about?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"The bridge?" she said, brows furrowing. "Oh, yes. The Howling Abyss."

"Whatever its name is. Why not go there? It seems like an interesting place," he said.

"Interesting –" she choked. "The place is haunted! All the people who died there – not to mention the Watchers –"

"Afraid of ghosts?" he taunted.

Ashe rolled her eyes. "Truthfully," she said, "I was once, as a child. But now, there are so many other things to fear… I suppose I grew out of it."

"Then there is no issue with paying this Howling Abyss a visit."

"The mountains are far too cold," she grumbled.

"Really?"

"Yes, they are." She huffed. "Very well, a trip to the Howling Abyss it is. Wonderful. Now, would you kindly leave me alone for a moment, so I can prepare and appoint someone else in the interim?"

"As you wish, archer," he said.

She looked over to where Thresh had been standing. He was gone.

Muttering derogatory terms under her breath, she searched for a bag to store her bow and extra supplies.

* * *

"This place certainly lives up to its name," Thresh commented. He walked further out onto the bridge.

"Careful," Ash cautioned. She was wearing two more layers of clothing than normal, yet the bitter wind still found its way to her skin. "This bridge is old. You wouldn't want to be caught on a collapsing part."

"Worried for my safety?" he said.

She bit her lip. "The abyss… it's a long way to fall. I'm not certain there is a ground to hit."

"Do you know a lot about this place?" he asked, looking at her curiously.

"I've heard many stories over the years," she said. "The Howling Abyss has an interesting history, though I can't be sure how much is fact, or what has been forgotten."

"Tell me."

"You want to hear old legends?"

"As I said, yes."

Ashe exhaled, watching her breath fog in the dry air, as she remembered all she'd been told over the years. It wasn't as hard as she thought. The more disturbing stories tended to linger the longest in her recall.

"To begin with," she said, "no one knows who built this bridge, or the fortress that comes with it." She waved an arm at the towering stone looming behind them. "It has existed for a long, long time. Before we were fractured into tribes. Before Shurima was desert, even."

"Hm. That would make it older than me," Thresh said.

She quirked an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to be significant?"

"I suppose not, given you've most likely never heard of the Cataclysm. But, go on," he said.

"There lived three sisters," she continued. "Avarosa. Serylda. Lissandra. Most information about them has been lost to history, but what we do know…" Ashe paused, shaking her head.

"I assume they have something to do with the castle and the bridge?"

"Yes, though I'm not sure how much. Some people say they built this place," she said.

Thresh looked over the side of the bridge, into the darkness below. "Impressive, for a feat accomplished so long ago," he said.

"Right. But this rift – the bridge over it wasn't built at the same time as the fortress. It probably isn't true, but legend has it that the abyss formed due to a rift between the sisters. Symbolism, you see," she said.

He scoffed. "Mortals and your metaphors."

"Weren't you mortal once?"

"Semantics. What caused the rift between the sisters?"

"That's unclear as well," said Ashe. "Whatever the reason, the Frozen Watchers were involved somehow. This place was their home."

"These Watchers are the ghosts you were afraid of?" he asked.

"Not entirely. Meaning, the Watchers were more than ghosts – they were ice spirits with strange, forgotten powers, but also that I meant the people who died here."

"There was a battle," Thresh concluded.

"Indeed. The Frozen Watchers were one side, and the other was humans with powers of their own. They were called the Iceborn," she said.

"And the sisters?" he prompted.

"Lissandra sided with the Watchers. Avarosa and Serylda… did not."

A silence followed for a moment, before Ashe broke it. "The battle was joined here, on this bridge. It was long and bloody, and fewer simply died than were thrown off the side." A strange smile played at her lips, and her fingers rose to make air-quotes. "The sound you hear is not the wind. It is the dead, pitched howling into the abyss."

Thresh stared at her.

"Or so the story was told to me," she said, inexplicably nervous with her story finished.

"Howling into the abyss," he repeated. "A more apt name that I had thought."

She shrugged.

"Though, I wonder. That sounds like a terrible way to die."

"What are you trying to say?" she asked.

"A terrible way to die. I wonder if their souls still linger at the bottom of the crevasse," he said.

Ashe's eyes narrowed at him. "Don't tell me you're considering –"

"Of course not," he said, insulted. "Even disregarding the difficulty of getting down there, not to mention the sheer indignity of… scavenging, they do not know me. Their fears would be this place, not me."

"Oh," she said. "Sorry."

They stood in companionable silence for a while, staring out into the darkness. Then the wind picked up, bringing with it flurries of white.

"It's begun to snow," said Ashe, shivering. "Wonderful. Just what I needed."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you," Thresh commented. She ignored him and headed toward solid ground, in search of shelter.

A sudden gust of wind made her stumble, stark terror of falling off the bridge filled her mind. She grabbed for an anchor. Unfortunately, the nearest solid object happened to be Thresh, and in her flailing, her fingers brushed his lantern.

Green, and vague awareness of someone saying, "How graceful," and she was sinking.

"What – you touched – oh, no, don't you dare –"

Falling.

Drowning.

* * *

Screaming.

All around in the green haze floated translucent bodies, ghosts. Men, women, children. Young, old. Some were mostly intact, and some were mangled beyond recognition.

They held nothing in common, but for the fact that they were all screaming.

For a moment, Ashe feared she had died and was trapped with the rest of these forsaken souls. But, that didn't seem right – a glance at herself told her she was still whole and solid, and not tinted green. Not dead, then?

Why were the spirits screaming?

She drifted closer to a ghost, a man with his lower body torn and broken. He didn't react to her approach, but fragments of images slowly resolves into a… vision? A memory.

* * *

His future had looked bright, once. He had been a young man, a rising star in the political sphere, married to a lovely woman, and with friends everywhere he turned. Now, those days seemed but a sweet dream, slipping through his fingers like water in the face of the nightmare of his reality.

He had been happy. Then, he met the reaper.

He'd been so young, and naïve. Like a fool, he'd provoked the monster, ignorant of its true nature. And when it left without hurting him, he thought no more of it.

Soon, his mother died. She had been neither old nor ill, but the manner of her death itself was the largest clue that it was not of natural means.

His poor mother's body was ripped apart, flesh rent from broken bone, her ribcage snapped open. Her skin had been flayed open, revealing blood and fat and flesh. Her eyes were gone, empty sockets gazing blindly upward, trailing black gore down her face.

The reaper had sent him a message. But still, he hadn't understood.

His brother was next, strung up on the ceiling of his own house. The man felt fear, then, pure, all-consuming fear.

It didn't stop. Anything he held dear, from his beloved wife to his favorite horse – the reaper took them all, and made a grisly scene of their demise. No two were murdered the same way, and each day he woke and dreaded hearing of a new corpse.

His friends tried to help, at first. But then they too died, and the ones who didn't left him to move farm away.

He sent away his two children and secluded himself in his home, with only one manservant kept around. Months passed that way, without any new of more murders, and he allowed himself hope. Beautiful, terrible, betraying hope. He hoped, and he began to leave his house, to talk to his servant, letting him become a friend, of sorts.

His last mistake.

The servant, too, died, along with the man's shreds of hope. He woke one day to find the corpse of his last friend by his bedside, dull eyes gazing at him unblinkingly. He truly had nothing left, yet he himself still lived.

Not for much longer, however. Now, he heard the harsh scraping of chains on the wooden floor, listened to the birds grow silent and saw the stars dim, and realized his imminent death. He almost welcomed it.

The monster could take no more from him than his life, after all, and when he was dead he would be beyond its reach.

Or so he believed, until he saw the lantern and heard the screams of his children.

* * *

But she had no brother, and her mother had died on a raid, and she'd never married or birthed any children. The things she held dear had not been stolen by Thresh. That was not her.

Ashe snapped back into her own mind suddenly, the jarring sensation leaving her reeling.

The man's soul was gone from her sight, swallowed by the tide of green. Yet, the images lingered, unforgettable, battering at her. That was not her, no, but it could be, easily. All she held dear – there was nearly nothing left. Thresh could ruin it easily, if he hadn't already, with the deal he'd made with her.

Easily done. Easy. Somehow, the thought was comforting. He didn't seem the type to reach for easy goals, ones in which there was little fulfillment. The more difficult something was to achieve, the greater satisfaction it provided. Something difficult, like –

Making Ashe destroy her sanity herself?

Horrible, stark clarity, and she wavered. Was he – would he really?

It didn't matter, she told herself.

But –

She grasped her doubts, holding them still, before tearing them apart to feed into her resolve. Whatever his plans were, there was no reason to let them affect her.

She had to remain strong. Had to keep moving forward. Eyes on the horizon, and never look back, Mother had once said. The quote was out of context, but appropriate nonetheless.

Though, she thought dryly, the first step would be finding her way out of this… green. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a splash of color. White, and clear blue like ice –

She dove toward it.

* * *

The archer's pursuers were loud, obvious, and above all, inefficient. Weighed down as they were by armor and weapons, they slowly lost ground in their chase.

They didn't even stop to consider that she might have hidden herself. Though, Thresh's opinion was probably skewed, given the ease with which he could find her.

Ashe's soul shone like a beacon, broadcasting her location from great distances away. The light drowned out other, smaller, sparks as the sun hid the stars during the day. Occasionally, he was irrationally surprised other humans couldn't see it.

Currently, her light was pulsing in distress, reflecting her emotional state. She was behind a curtain, leaning against a market stall with her head down. He gave it a fifty-fifty chance that she was crying. That wouldn't do.

"A wonderful dilemma you have here," he said.

She didn't reply, instead trying to make herself seem smaller. Irritating. She was stronger than that.

"No comment?" he prodded. "How disappointing."

She still showed no reaction. This was moving beyond irritating, and he scowled, feeling real anger well up.

"You lack of spirit disgusts me. Weren't you so sure of yourself? Where is your conviction?"

"What can I do?" she replied. Finally, words out of her. "Can't convince that man to see reason. Can't even stop the fighting. I would be attacked on sight, and even if I could bring myself to do it, I cannot defeat half their tribe."

Oh, this wouldn't do at all. That man, that sorry excuse for a leader - he had hurt the archer. Thresh made up his mind – he would repay her pain tenfold, with interest for good measure. No one but himself was allowed to break her like this –

Wait, what –

The vision froze and splintered apart, leaving Ashe clutching her head. The pain soon receded, which was a blessing and a curse, as she now had room to think.

Was that truly how Thresh thought about her? That was either terrifying or oddly sweet, and oh gods what was wrong with her.

The green suddenly seemed stifling, pressing in, making her choke. Her breath quickened. She needed to get out. Get out. Get –

* * *

– out.

Ashe's eyes snapped open with little fanfare. The freezing temperature had dropped further, chilling her down to her bones, thought that may have been because she was lying in the snow.

Her vision focused slowly. The first thing she saw was the lantern, resting a scant few inches away from her. At this distance, tiny lights were visible inside it, twinkling like stars. But no, no matter how pretty it was, she snatched herself away from it quickly. Touching it again would most likely not end well.

"Welcome back," said Thresh, and either she was hallucinating or that was relief in his voice.

She sat up, brushing snow off her clothing with hand she could barely feel. A glance at her surroundings showed her a copse of trees and a rocky outcropping providing shelter from the worst of the raging storm. Her bag was beside her. He'd moved her? That… did not help her confusion.

"What happened?" Ashe asked. She licked her cracked lips.

"Oh, nothing much," he replied. He was covered in snow, a fact which didn't seem to bother him. How unfair. "You almost lost yourself to my lantern and left your body a corpse that still drew breath."

She stared at him, horror strangely muted, perhaps because it wasn't a true surprise. She'd just held herself back from the realization while she was trapped.

He stared back.

"You're covered in snow," she said distantly. "Changing your theme?"

Thresh made a derisive noise, brushing the snow off himself before redoubling his glare at her. "You will endeavor to not do that again," he said.

"You've hardly a reason to worry. I'm not eager to repeat that experience," she said, mouth twisting on to a half-smile, half-frown.

"Good."

They sat in silence for a while. Ashe pulled out another coat from her bag in an attempt to stave off the cold. There was nothing to do but stay here for the night, as she was extremely reluctant to try and find her way back in the driving wind, with visibility at zero.

"That reminds me," Thresh said, breaking the silence, "whatever happened to the three sisters?"

She blinked, a second passing before her recall began functioning properly. "Oh. There aren't any stories about them after the battle here, excepting Avarosa. She led the Freljord into an era of prosperity as its queen, reigning until her unclear time of death."

"Perhaps the other sisters are still around," he mused.

"Do you believe so? After all this time?"

He shrugged, saying, "You never know. They may have caused this storm, out of anger at someone visiting the place their relationship fell apart."

Ashe laughed, and felt a little bit warmer.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Rereading Ashe's lore, she's apparently fifteen at this point in time. Wow. Isn't that the time you're supposed to be finding yourself and stuff? Sheesh, she's got issues.**

 **Anyway, once again I tried for fluff, and once again I failed. (Tell me if I overdid it on the creepy.) Ended up…this. Some filler-y stuff, some wrap-up, some setup for the next chapter. Doesn't Ilsa seem like a nice girl?**

 **Thanks for reading, and drop a review if you have time. Updates really are gonna slow down now.**

* * *

 **VI – Avarosa guide me.**

Whenever an aurora appeared in the sky, the entire tribe was generally given leave to pause whatever they were doing and go watch. The lights were a rare sight, and unpredictable as well.

Ashe, in the process of revising an agreement with a village further south to trade crops for meant, didn't realize what was happening until a blonde-haired girl entered her study.

"Milady," said the girl, making her start, "I'm terribly sorry for interrupting, but my friends and I were wondering if we could ask your permission to go see the aurora? We were in lessons…"

She rubbed her eyes. "The what? The lights are in the sky, now?"

The girl shrank in on herself. "Yes, milady. Er, I'm sorry for disturbing you. I understand if you forbid us."

"No, no," Ashe said, shaking her aching head. "I was merely surprised. Go, it's no trouble. Tell whomever else might ask I gave my permission."

The girl smiled. She bowed, saying, "Thank you, milady," before running off.

She stood, muscles sore from being locked into position for so long. A series of hacking coughs suddenly racked her body, leaving her bent double. Was she becoming ill? She sniffed. The night spent in the cold, followed by a long trek home, had clearly done her no good.

Ah, well. She was hardly going to miss an aurora because of a few sniffles. She snatched a handkerchief off her desk and made her way outside. The last time she'd seen one was as a small child.

* * *

The best spot for viewing the lights was the top of the hill, which Ashe had to herself. Nobody sat anywhere near her, though they occasionally snuck glances up at her.

The view was lovely, the sky streaked with green and red, but… it was lonely. She missed the huddle of warm bodies around her, the feeling of companionship. She shook her head. The action made her hair tickle her nose, and she sneezed.

That drew more gazes, this times mostly ones of shock. It was like – like they thought she should be more than human. They treated her like some type of god. Like a queen.

Suddenly sick to her stomach, Ashe stood and walked down the side of the hill opposite where her tribe was, escaping their eyes. This was what she'd wanted, no? To be treated with respect. To be looked up to.

The aurora was easier to enjoy without her people's eyes boring into her. Somehow, her loneliness abated when she was alone –

The clanking of chains –

– though, not alone for long.

"I don't understand what you find so interesting about these lights," said Thresh.

She turned to stare at him, eyebrows raised, then looked back up at the sky. The star-studded indigo field was painted in green and magenta, the colors swirling together to form dancing curtains of light.

"It's beautiful," Ashe said.

"Hm. I don't see it."

Neither spoke for a minute.

"Do you know what people have begun calling you?" Thresh asked abruptly.

She sniffed. "What, queen?"

"Yes, but I meant what they're calling your tribe as a whole, not you specifically," he said.

"Then no," she said, "I don't."

"You're referred to as the Avarosan. Amusing, but appropriate."

"Huh." She considered that for a moment. "Not the worst name, I suppose."

"No, but if your tribe is the Avarosan, does that make you Avarosa?" he said.

Ashe broke into a coughing fit.

"I'm sorry, are you sick?" Thresh asked with feigned concern.

"As a matter of fact, yes," she replied, wiping her nose with her handkerchief. "But you – I am not Avarosa!"

"Well, no, you have no sisters."

She glared at him. The effect was ruined by a sudden sneeze.

"Are you actually sick?" he said.

"I told you, yes. And thanks to you, too," she told him.

"How is the weakness of your immune system my fault?"

"I don't usually fall ill," she fumed. "I am perfectly capable of handling cold temperatures, provided I do not spend a night in a snowstorm."

"You said you wanted a vacation," he replied, unapologetic.

"For me, the Howling Abyss is not a vacation destination!"

He shrugged. "You agreed to go. Besides, it was entertaining."

"I'm glad you think it was worthwhile," Ashe said with a sigh. "But in all seriousness, I do have something to ask."

"Then ask," Thresh said.

She exhaled, lying down to gaze up at the aurora. It wasn't a topic she wanted to discuss, at all, but should she not, it would bother her until she did.

"When I was… trapped in the lantern," she said, "I saw something."

He was instantly on alert. "What did you see?" he growled.

The words lay heavy on her tongue, not wishing to be spoken. The green of the lights up above, she noted distantly, resembled the color of his lantern. She coughed.

"There was a man. Or rather, his soul. I saw a memory of his, of what you did to him," she said, reluctantly.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

Best to get it over with all at once. "He was a politician of some sort," Ashe said. "Married, with two children. He – I don't know, he annoyed you somehow, and then –" She broke off. The words wouldn't come.

"I remember him," said Thresh, voice dark. She kept her eyes directed firmly upward.

"You killed everyone he cared about," she whispered. "I'm not asking how you could do such a thing. That would have no meaning to you –"

"You know me so well."

"– but why? Did you even have a reason?"

A pause. When he spoke again, his words were slow and deliberate. "I could say it was because he irritated me. But it wasn't. His true misfortune was coming across me at all."

"Are you saying you did it because you wanted to?" she asked.

"More or less. I can't expect you to understand, but…" He sighed. "He was a petty man, full of himself, and attributing to his own skill what was actually luck."

"Somehow, I can't believe your actions were due to his abrasive personality."

"Hardly," he said, chuckling. "My point is, he wasn't the first of his type I've seen, and he wasn't the last. I knew perfectly well how to tear apart his little mind. But that would have been uninspired, so I gave myself a challenge."

"A challenge," Ashe repeated numbly.

"A small one. To make him suffer and break, without ever laying a hand on the man himself."

"Making things interesting," she murmured.

"Exactly," Thresh agreed. "An eternity is a long time for monotony to stake its claim. He was an amusing diversion for a while."

She shut out the screaming of her morals, forcing herself to contemplate the implications of his last statement. "Is that what I am?" she asked softly, closing her eyes. "A diversion?" Why did that idea hurt so much?

A moment's quiet, then, "Do you know how many souls I've taken since I met you?"

"Do I want to know?"

"None but the ones of your would-be murderers."

She opened her eyes to look at him incredulously.

"No one else has died near you," he said.

"That implies you've been following me," she pointed out.

"Yes, it does."

Ashe snorted. "At last, you admit it."

"My point is," he continued, "you are not just a diversion. Perhaps, an interesting project."

How flattering. She rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin on the palm of her hand. "Easy objectives hold no interest for you. Your pride demands you spend time and effort."

"Correct," he confirmed.

"If I lose our bet too quickly, would that be uninteresting?"

He said nothing.

"The same goes for direct sabotage of my goals," she said. "You wouldn't, say, kill half a neighboring tribe for the sake of provoking a war with us."

Thresh still said nothing, but a strange, unholy light lit up his eye sockets.

"Too simple. Below you. And –" she swallowed, "– it wouldn't hurt me nearly enough. Not if you thought you could make me ruin my dream myself."

He laughed. She rolled away and clamped her hands over her ears, but still she heard him laugh.

"I've heard some say a sign of being mad is understanding someone else's madness," he said.

"Spare me the philosophy," she breathed, covering her eyes with a hand. "What is it that you want? Truthfully?" Please, gods above, let her be wrong.

"What I want?" The sound of scraping chains approached where she lay. "A dangerous question. I want many things, but I assume you mean in your specific case."

She nodded, though it wasn't a question.

"Well. One day, perhaps many years into the future, I want you to look around and find everything you once wanted desecrated by your own hand."

She very deliberately did not react.

"And I want you to look to yourself, and find you've done the same to your own soul."

Ashe opened her eyes, gazing up, where the aurora billowed in pale green flame like Thresh's empty eyes as he stood over her.

"But most importantly," he finished, "I want you to see this all, and realize that you. Regret. Nothing."

The lights still shone, far above, the work of some mad painter ignorant or uncaring of the world below.

"It really is a beautiful night," he said, watching not the sky, but her.

"The kind people remember for the rest of their lives," she agreed. Her eyes were on the heavens.

* * *

"Someone is approaching," Thresh said, eventually.

Ashe sneezed into her handkerchief. "Wonderful. Who?" she asked.

"Some girl. She seems nervous."

She sighed, dragging herself upright. "Thank you for the warning," she said. He had already vanished.

Not a minute later, the same girl who had approached her for permission to leave her lessons crested the hill. She was wringing her hands, her eyes fixed on the ground.

When the girl got close enough, she bowed. "I'm sorry for interrupting, milady," she said. "If you were talking to someone – er, that is –" She realized nobody else was there, and blinked in confusion.

"I wasn't speaking to anyone," said Ashe.

"Oh. I'm sorry for assuming –"

"What is it that you need?" she asked, not unkindly.

The girl's eyes darted around the hillside once more before she spoke. "I couldn't help but notice how busy you seemed earlier, milady, and I wanted to ask something, but you didn't look like you wanted to be bothered," she babbled. "But then I thought, there wasn't going to be a better chance to speak to you without any guards nearby, or anyone – not that I'm trying to threaten you, of course not –"

"Calm," she said, holding out a hand. "I understand your hesitation." However unfortunate it was that she couldn't make herself more approachable. "What is your question?"

The girl visibly composed herself. "I was wondering, because you're so busy, if you might need an… assistant of some sort? Or a maid?"

She hadn't considered it, but… "I admit," Ashe said, "and aide could be of use. Are you volunteering yourself?"

"Er, yes," said the girl, "but if milady doesn't want someone like – like me, I understand."

She frowned. "What is your name?"

"Ilsa."

"Ilsa, then." The name was unfamiliar. "You seem like a perfectly capable young lady. What is the problem?"

"I'm just useless," Ilsa muttered, kicking the ground. "Always wanted to be a warrior, you know. But I couldn't be. So now I'm here, begging for –" Her mind seemed to catch up with her words, and her hands flew up to cover her mouth.

Ashe waved a hand to cut off the imminent apology. "There is no shame in lacking what is necessary to be a warrior," she said gently.

"But it's not that!" the girl burst out. "I'm good with a sword, great with one, and Father says I have the right mindset, it's just my stupid –"

She raised an eyebrow.

Ilsa sighed, eyes dropping to her feet again. "When I couldn't exercise without a pain in my chest, Mother and Father took me to see a doctor in Ionia. The doctor told me I have a birth defect in my heart, and that I should stay away from physical activity if I didn't want to risk my life."

"I'm sorry," Ashe said, because what else was there to say? To be unable to reach a goal she had always wanted, not because of some repairable deficiency, but an uncontrollable flaw of her own body – she couldn't imagine how it felt.

"But I want to be useful," Ilsa said, her back straightening. "So if you'll have me, milady, it would be my honor to assist you in any way I can."

"Thank you for your offer. Of course you may help me, is that is your wish," she said.

A smile lit the girl's face. "Really? I mean, I hadn't thought you would appreciate someone like me."

"I'm currently ill, actually," she confided. "You would be of great aid."

"…Ill?"

Ashe sneezed.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: EVERYTHING I WRITE STARTS FLUFFY THEN GOES REALLY DARK I CAN'T STOP IT HELP ME**

 ***takes deep breath* Ok, sorry not sorry in advance. This is for the good cause of giving Ashe more emotional issues. And issues in general. Jeez Sej, why you gotta be like you are?**

 **Not completely happy with this chapter, though I'm not sure why. Have this vague feeling of OOC-ness…**

* * *

 **VII – Ah, the sweet tones of misery.**

Ashe's illness did not abate the next day, nor the day after that. For the better part of a week, her temperature rose, her strength declined, and everything took more effort. It grew from an annoyance to an insurmountable handicap.

On the third day, she relented and let Ilsa bring a healer to her. The healer told her she would feel better soon, that her fever would break and she would be able to resume normal function. She may have snapped at him and sent him away for saying it wasn't a process that could be sped up. Recall was difficult.

With the fever came strange, vivid dreams that more often than not became nightmares. She found herself by Avarosa's grave again. She witnessed her mother's death. She saw the Freljord swept away beneath a red tide, and she saw herself as queen of an empty frozen wasteland devoid of life.

The fourth day was the worst.

Thresh stood by her bedside. She wasn't sure how often he had done that during her illness, or why. She wasn't even sure if she hadn't slept the entire day, the events having been a dream.

He'd somehow found an old children's story of hers, about why the foxes in the Freljord changed colors with the seasons. He read it out loud, inserting derisive comments in between sentences.

No one had read her stories since before she could read herself. The last time she'd heard this book in particular, she'd been… four? Five?

Between that fact, and the fever impairing her judgement, perhaps her actions could be forgiven. If, indeed, they had been real, and not another fever dream.

Ashe had been lying under her covers, eyes shut, as he closed the book with a strange look on his face. And then she had said, "Don't leave."

"Why should I not leave?" Thresh had asked. Looking back, he had probably been poking fun at her, but at the time, his question had filled her with fear.

"You can't," she'd said, eyes wide.

"Why can't I?"

"They all leave. Father. Mother. No one stays."

She barely remembered her father. He was a distant impression in her mind, associated with bonfires and strong hand cradling her as a child. Not a person.

He had laughed, softly. "Death had its chance at me, archer. I do not intend to give it another."

"That's good," she had mumbled. "So you won't leave?"

"I will not."

"Good," she had said, and then fallen asleep.

During those days, Ilsa was a godsend. The girl brought her soup and other warm foods, as well as her work, when she could focus. Most importantly, she did not spread word of her illness around the tribe, as she found once she recovered.

By the end of the week, she was capable of standing and basic comprehension once more. Which was fortunate, because she had an enormous backlog of paperwork to complete.

"With all due respect, milady," Ilsa protested, "you are still not well. It wouldn't be wise to strain yourself while you're recovering."

"My own well-being is a secondary concern," Ashe said, coughing. "Who knows how many important things I've missed? If I don't begin now, I may miss more."

Ilsa pursed her lips. "I'll bring you the most important documents," she bargained.

"…very well, that will do. Thank you."

Her opinion of Ilsa's judgement rose as she read the first report. It was about a tribe called the Winter's Claw, a fair distance away, who had recently been going through hard times.

Apparently, they were once a widely respected and feared tribe, but the past winters had hit them hard, leaving their numbers low. A new chief had also risen to power after the death of the previous. It would be a good time to aid them and establish a relationship.

"The Winter's Claw?" Thresh said, reading over her shoulder.

"Yes," she said. "Do you know anything about them?"

"I've seen them. They are a tribe of warriors, who have always respected strength," he said. "Though, their new leader is rather obsessed with it, with stamping out weakness and not being pitied. Her name is Sejuani."

Ashe narrowed her eyes. Even with her mind clouded by fever, she thought he was leaving something out. "Is there anything else?" she asked.

"You have all the relevant information. You are capable of drawing your own conclusions."

She shook her head, wincing as the motion sent a spike of pain hammering through her skill. Conclusions.

"They respect strength," she muttered. "Then, it wouldn't be the best idea to go myself, in this state. It would only attract insult."

"Most likely," he said.

"But I could help them. Give food. Perhaps forge a friendship with this Sejuani in the process, but it doesn't sit well with me to let others go hungry when I could stop it."

"So, what will you do?"

She collapsed back against her pillows. "Have to send someone in my stead. Right… Ilsa!" she called.

Footsteps, and the blonde girl appeared in her doorway just as Thresh disappeared. "Yes, milady?"

"An envoy needs to be sent to the Winter's Claw, bearing food supplies. I will write a letter to given to their chief, Sejuani," she said.

"Of course, milady," Ilsa said, bowing. "Er, what kind of food?"

Ashe considered for a moment. "Grain. We have a surplus from trade."

"I'll get it done," she said, but she didn't leave, instead lingering nervously.

"Is there anything else you would like to say?"

"It's – I mean, would you consider – I'm sorry, it's silly," she mumbled.

"It can't be. Speak your mind."

"Can I – may I go with the envoy?" she blurted out. "I know you say I'm helpful, but I really haven't don't much, and my friends say I'm good at getting along with people –"

"Peace," said Ashe, cutting her off. "If that is your wish, then I see no reason to deny you. But remember to be self-assured. The Winter's Claw is a tribe that respects strength above all else. Don't be afraid to stay away from anything you don't feel yourself capable of handling."

Ilsa's eyes blazed with fervor. "Thank you, milady. I won't let you down."

* * *

They left at dawn the next day. By that time, Ashe was well enough to send them off with a speech, and they departed to applause.

Contrary to the general humor of her tribe, her nerves were frayed. Ilsa was perfectly capable of looking after herself, of course, but the girl aside, this was the first time she wouldn't be present for diplomatic talks. Anything could go wrong, and she wouldn't be able to help – wouldn't even know – for too long. The round trip was four days.

But there was nothing to be done, now.

She slogged through her backlog of work. She trained to restore the power in her muscles. Mostly, she slept to regain her physical and emotional strength.

The days passed slowly. At first, she wasn't sure why, as nothing in particular was different. But that was incorrect – something was different, and it was her lack of control. Being a leader meant responsibility for those under her, and her sudden inability to that responsibility grated.

"I don't understand," she said to Thresh one day. "I know I can't be everywhere and do everything."

"I fail to empathize, having never been in your situation," he said. "But you clearly seem to understand."

"I feel so petty, though," said Ashe. "Something is out of my control, and I dislike it."

"Hardly odd."

"Why can't I just trust people?" she muttered.

"Your reservations may or may not be justified," he said, "as I can't speak for your people's competence."

"I still feel you're not telling me something about the Winter's Claw." She glanced sideways at him.

Enough time passed to give the impression that he wasn't going to say anything. Then, "It won't work."

"What won't?"

"Your attempt to make friends. Sejuani will see it as pity, treating her tribe as weak and in need of help," he said.

She levelled a glare at him. "And could you not have told me this earlier?" Ilsa would be heartbroken at her perceived failure.

"I told you about their fixation with strength," he replied. "Obviously, I overestimated your reasoning capabilities."

"I – I had a fever!" she sputtered. "I was half delirious!"

"If you had known it wouldn't go well, would you have not attempted it?" he asked.

Would she have? Ashe was unnerved to find she wasn't immediately sure of the answer. "Perhaps," she said. "Even if… I could not, in good conscience, leave anyone to go hungry, even if they thought it to be unwelcome charity."

"You and your silly conscience," said Thresh.

She sighed. "At the very least, I hope this Sejuani will be reasonable, even should she refuse our gift."

* * *

The envoy returned lacking several things, like the grain. And their weapons, and most of their armor. And Ilsa.

Ashe dismissed a few ever-present gawkers and walked up to the group. "What has happened to you all?" she asked.

A bedraggled man with a beard stepped forward. "Queen Ashe," he said, "I regret to inform you our mission was highly unsuccessful."

She eyed the sorry-looking party. "Yes, I can see. Would you kindly explain the details to me? And where is Ilsa?"

The man tugged at the collar of his shirt, sweating. "Our diplomatic intentions were… poorly received."

"Speak frankly," she said. "You will not be punished. I have reason to believe that, perhaps, your objective was doomed to fail, but I would like to know all the facts."

He bowed, relaxing slightly. "Their leader, Sejuani, she… took the grain, and burned it in a bonfire," he said. "She told us, in no uncertain terms, that she would never stoop so low as to accept such a thing from us. Then she and her warriors accosted us, stealing our equipment. I'm sorry for not putting up more of a fight, milady."

"Apology accepted. You were outnumbered in unfamiliar territory, and not expecting a fight," she assured. "But that is not all, is it?"

"Ah, yes," he said, face losing color. "She said, in ruder terms than I repeat them, that she thought we were weak and you undeserving of being a leader. And that she intended to start a campaign, to conquer the Freljord and put it all under her rule."

Ashe's vision flashed red. Breathe, she told herself, unclenching her hands. There was still another question.

"Where is Ilsa?" she asked softly.

The man took a step backward. "She, ah, that is… the girl didn't make it."

The world frayed at the edges.

"How?" she said, voice deadly quiet.

"When they attacked us, she fought as well. She held her ground until she collapsed. We thought she was wounded, but she wasn't bleeding, and then we saw – none of us knew why. She seemed perfectly fine earlier."

Oh, but she knew why. A small thing. A tiny defect in her heart, so unimportant until it wasn't. Why had Ilsa fought? Why had she let the girl go in the first place? Why, why, why.

"Thank you for your report," she said, numb.

"Er, my condolences. But if I may – what will you do, Queen Ashe?" he asked.

Right. She had to do something, to react. "Tell the smiths to increase weapons production," she bit out. "Have the warriors begin drilling, too."

"If I might ask a question," said the man.

"Ask."

"Is this war?"

Concentrating as she was on the in-out-in of her breathing, it took a second for the question to register.

"We will not start a war," she whispered, her eyes unfocused. "But if Sejuani seeks one, we will most certainly be the ones to end it." She took the bow off her back, raising it high in the air in an unmistakable signal for the ones who hadn't heard her words.

* * *

As soon as she was secluded in her study, away from everyone, Ashe's icy calm morphed into burning anger. The unfamiliar emotion seared her blood, boiling hate scalding like hot oil.

She carefully set down her bow and sat on her chair before letting out an incoherent scream.

"I hate her," she hissed.

"A rather strong word, hate is," said Thresh. "Do you truly hate her?"

"If this isn't hate," she replied, "I don't know what hate is."

"Hm. So tell me, what are you thinking right now?"

"What are you, my therapist?" she scoffed, but her hands were still clenched, the knuckles white. "I – Ilsa didn't deserve that, the poor, foolish girl, and she was kind and – and so desperate to prove herself. And that ignorant, misguided warmonger, she –"

"What I mean is, do you want to hurt her?" he asked. "Do you want to make her suffer, bleed, die for what she's done? What do you want?"

She tipped her head back. "I – I do. I want to hurt her like she's just hurt me. I just – I want her gone, and I'd like to think I want that for the good of everyone, but I can't – I can't." Deep, ragged breaths shook her frame, a hair's breadth from becoming sobs. "There, I admitted it. Are you happy now?"

Ashe stood suddenly, rounding on him before he could speak. "Did you know?" she demanded. "Did you know this would happen? Is that why you didn't tell me everything, so I'd send her and everything would be ruined and I'd feel like – this?"

"You flatter me," Thresh said, amusement clear in his voice, "but I am not omniscient, and I cannot control your fickle emotions."

She slumped, her anger drained all at once. "I know," she whispered. "I'm simply… unsuited to deal with such needless loss."

"Needless loss. Loss you could have prevented?" he said.

She flinched.

"Loss you might have stopped, had you been better? If you'd been smarter, more capable, older, less ignorant?" he mocked, words driving needles into her chest.

"Damn you," she snarled. Tears ran down her cheeks. "Ilsa is dead. A child lost, a friend lost. Damn you."

"Far too late for that, archer."

She staggered a few steps to collapse on her bed. Her tears soaked into the fur blankets.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Ashe confessed. "Sometimes I do, I think, but sometimes I still feel like I'm just – pretending. There's no one to guide me or tell me when I'm doing something wrong so I don't stray too far."

"'Wrong' is a fluid concept," said Thresh, "one for which everyone has a different definition. I find most to be meaningless."

"I have to train. Sharpen my fighting skills," she mumbled, sighing. "If Sejuani intends to start a campaign of conquest, I will meet her on the battlefield and let the gods decide the victor."

"How disgustingly noble," he said.

She shook her head. "It's not nobility, or honor, or what have you. It's… I couldn't live with myself if I sent people to their deaths, people with families and friends who care about them, without risking myself. I have little left to lose."

"As I said," he repeated, "disgustingly noble."

She rolled over with another sigh, and buried her head in a pillow. Perhaps things would seem less bleak tomorrow.

She was nearly asleep when she heard Thresh say, "You couldn't be rid of me if you tried, Ashe."

It was probably a dream, if she hadn't simply misheard.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Mostly an in-between chapter. Wrapping up some plot threads and getting ready for next chapter, etc. Speaking of next chapter, it's gonna be Bilgewater time! Also, headcanon is Ashe is afraid of spiders.**

 **Also, yes, when I refer to the hunter people, it is them. And yes, she's alive because butterflies. I'm sure I'll figure out a way to make it relevant later.**

 **Review/favorite/follow, blah blah blah, thanks for reading.**

* * *

 **VIII – We must press on!**

Time passed, as it was wont to do.

The first time she saw Sejuani, her initial impression was that the other woman was young. Under the helm and flail and armor and the imposing boar she rode, she couldn't be much older than Ashe herself.

They met each other on a battlefield, both isolated from the shouts and clashing of metal. No one else approached them.

"So this is the so-called Queen Ashe," Sejuani said. "An archer. I don't know why I expected more."

"So this is the warmonger that seeks to soak the ice in blood," Ashe responded.

The other sneered. "Warmonger? My destiny is to conquer and unite the tribes. When I succeed, I will forge a nation to be feared."

"And what of the corpses you leave in your wake?" she asked.

"The strong will survive. If they die, they were weaklings anyway."

Her eyes narrowed. "And Ilsa? Is that how you justify her death, during a peaceful mission?"

"That girl?" said Sejuani. "She collapsed. We barely lay a hand on her."

"She had a heart condition, which would kill her should she fight. Your assault killed her!"

Any trace of sympathy vanished from her expression. "Then yes, she was weak."

"She had family!" Ashe yelled. "Her parents must now bury their child, and you force others to suffer the same way through your foolish war! Have you no compassion?"

"There is no room for compassion in the ice of the Freljord winters," Sejuani snarled. "The weak become strong, or their corpses are thrown out in the cold for animals to devour."

"Then you will not stop this fighting," she said.

"Not until all the Freljord lies under my banner."

"So be it," said Ashe, drawing her bow.

That was the first of many battles, which grew steadily more pointless. The Winter's Claw was extraordinarily vicious, but still lacked numbers in comparison to the Avarosan. Any progress made in one battle was erased by the next.

Ashe led her warriors, as Sejuani led hers. She lost count of the number who fell to her ice arrows, but it was no less than the number of her people who fell to the other woman's flail.

As spring dragged on, the only thing accomplished by the fighting was the empty spaces created, belonging to the men and women who didn't come home.

* * *

Ashe went to only one funeral.

It was a small, private service attended by no one but Ilsa's family and friends. By then, too many others had died for many to attend one unimportant girl's funeral proceedings.

The day was fair and clear, with the setting moon shining bright in a cloudless sky. Its pale rays warmed neither the frozen earth nor the ice in her spirit.

Ilsa's body did not lie in the coffin upon the pedestal. The envoy had been forced to retreat in haste, causing the recovery of her body to be neither practical nor safe. It made sense, of course. And yet –

Children, expressions solemn as they gazed upon the place where their friend did not lie. A weeping woman stood by the empty coffin, leaning on a grim-faced man whose arm was wrapped around her. Her friends, her parents. But no children resembled the couple. Had Ilsa been their only child? Was that better or worse than the alternative?

In the face of everything, Ashe thought, one child's death was a small tragedy. So many others had been lost. Surely, the countless other deaths should demand more of her grief?

But the death of many was only a cold fact, a number on a paper lying somewhere on her desk. It told of nothing. A number could not tell of the way this man's eyes creased when he smiled, or of how this woman once aspired to be a poet. Many deaths were a statistic. A single death was always personal.

Personal. Was Ilsa's death personal? The thought was bitter. It should be, she believed, as much of the blame fell squarely on her shoulders. But, had Ashe known her well enough for the loss to be a personal tragedy?

The first answer was yes, of course she had known her well enough, of course it was personal.

She looked at the grieving parents again, and suddenly wanted to retch.

She fled the funeral. Out of the sight of the mourners, she ran, allowing her feet to carry her far out onto the tundra. She raced over the hill, scaring the various small, foraging creatures, and did not stop until she could barely recognize her surroundings.

Then she collapsed onto the icy ground and tried to cry. No tears would come.

* * *

The days continued, relentless in their passing, heedless of what Ashe's mental state. The sun rose for the first time in half a year, streaking the horizon with red like blood. As if it were a signal of some sort, with its warmth came fewer and fewer clashes with the Winter's Claw, as Sejuani seemed to realize little would come of her campaign in that direction. Both of them turned their attention to other tribes – her to sign treaties with, the other to conquer.

In both no time and all and far, far too much, she realized she was another year older.

On the morning of her birthday, Ashe woke to a spider the size of her head resting on her bed, dripping venom on her covers. She blinked, rubbing her eyes.

She most certainly did not scream and roll onto the floor when she realized it wasn't a dream.

"Oh, I was expecting one of these," said Thresh. He hadn't even the decency to sound surprised.

"Spider," she screeched, pointing a shaking arm toward the offending creature. "Explain."

"A message from home," he replied, untying a scroll she hadn't noticed from the spider's back.

"Can – are you not capable of sending them like normal people?" she snapped. She staggered to her feet, smoothing down fly-away locks of white hair.

"I'm sure we'll do that, the moment we find someone willing to deliver to the Shadow Isles," he said, examining the letter. "Until then, the Spider Queen's minions are the only option."

"Spider Queen?" Ashe repeated. Apart from the… disturbing connotations, it sounded vaguely familiar.

"Yes. Her name is Elise."

"Is… is she a spider?"

"Sometimes."

She shook her head in an attempt to clear the early-morning confusion. "Er, what does the letter say?"

"Some information about what I've missed while I've been here," he said.

"Anything of importance?" she asked.

"Hm. Yes, but I'm not certain I should tell you." He smirked.

She lunged for the piece of parchment, but he quickly snatched it out of her reach. A few more endeavors yielded no greater results. She subsided with a grumble, sitting on her bed, careful to avoid the chittering spider she could swear was laughing at her.

"Rather rude," said Thresh. "I feel even more uninclined to tell you, now. Perhaps, should you ask nicely…"

She sighed, mouth twisting in distaste at what she was about to do. "Will you please tell me what it says? It's my birthday, and it would make me very happy," she simpered, sarcasm barely veiled.

"Today is your birthday?"

"Just tell me," she growled. "Please."

"Nothing particularly interesting. Another group of would-be heroes invading," he said.

Ashe stared at him. "Nothing interesting, you say."

"It happens every so often. Apparently, this wave included a pair of hunters with light weapons. Married, too. Hmph. Had I been there, I'd have taken one's soul to torment and to drive the other into madness. Instead, my associates let them flee."

Her stare did not abate.

"Perhaps they're losing their touch," Thresh mused.

"At some point," she said faintly, "I would like a description of what in the hells, exactly, goes on in the Shadow Isles."

"The periodic invasions are really the most engaging part," he told her. "The inhabitants tent to be either dull or rather annoying."

"Like this Spider Queen?"

"Like her," he agreed.

"Oh," she said, a sudden realization striking. "You had said she was the reason you left, correct? She had been annoying you?"

"Yes." He sighed. "I assume you want details about her?"

"The rest of your friends, too, if you don't mind terribly."

"They are not my friends," he said. "But I suppose I could humor you. Humans have a concept of birthday gifts, do they not?"

"How astute of you," she said.

"Quiet. Elise, the Spider Queen, was once a mere mortal before she got into dark magics," he began. "Now, she is a spider."

"…A literal spider?" she asked.

"She controls spiderlings, and can transform into a literal spider. A very large spider."

Ashe shuddered.

"Please move on from the spiders," she said.

"As you wish," he said with a grin. "Also in the annoying category, as opposed to the dull one, is Evelynn. Mortal, and she amuses herself by hiring out as an assassin for exorbitant fees."

"Is she good?" she asked.

"Considering she can be invisible, yes. Why, is there anyone you'd like to be rid of?" he needled.

"Not particularly – wait, invisible?"

"Only in dark places."

"How reassuring." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Is there anyone you don't find either annoying or boring?"

"There is Mordekaiser," he said. "He is a metal revenant. Nobody is sure, exactly, of what he is, but he is old, older than the Isles. And powerful."

"The more I hear, the surer I become of my resolution to never visit," she muttered.

"You over exaggerate. The rest are quite dull, anyhow," he said.

"I fear your definition of that word is quite different from mine."

He shrugged. "Karthus is an undead lich with an obsession with death. Hecarim, more widely known as the Shadow of War, is a ghost centaur. Appropriately, he is obsessed with slaughter and battle. Kalista – she is a vengeance spirit – well, she barely counts, as she's hardly ever there. She detests Hecarim."

"Thresh," Ashe deadpanned, "that is not dull. That is –"

"I'm not finished," he interrupted.

"My hopes are crushed."

"Oh, Yorick is hardly worth such dramatics. He is a gravedigger."

She waited for the catch.

"An undead gravedigger, who controls various omens. Unintelligent spectres, really," he finished.

"Are you quite done?" she said. "Because frankly, your friends sound terrifying."

Thresh was suddenly far too close. "Them?" he whispered, leaning toward her. "Am I not worse?"

A bead of sweat trickled down her neck. "I… yes," she admitted quietly. "But I think extended exposure has skewed my perception somewhat."

He laughed, moving back away from her. The sound still made her flesh crawl, but she hid it far more successfully than past occasions.

"Actually," he said, "nobody has had such prolonged… exposure, as you call it, to me as you have. Most tend to go insane or attempt suicide within a few days."

"Perhaps I have gone mad, and I haven't yet realized it," said Ashe.

"Perhaps. But I am inclined to say that if you are, you were likely mad long before you met me."

She snorted. "Most probably. Who else but a mad fool dreams of peace?"

"A noble, optimistic fool?" he suggested.

"Is there a difference?"

"Not to me. But I had thought there to be a difference for you."

Silence reigned for a moment, before she broke it.

"Do you know how old I am today?" she asked, then continued before he could respond. "I am sixteen. In some cultures, I would not yet be considered an adult. What am I doing?"

"Are you asking me?" Thresh said.

"No. More myself."

Silence again. This time, he was the one to speak first.

"The invasion was not the only thing the message spoke of," he said, almost reluctantly. "It also – it is nearly time for the Harrowing."

"The Harrowing?" She frowned. "I've heard of it, but I'm not certain of its nature."

"Every year, the Black Mist descends on Bilgewater, and the denizens of the Isles – though, myself and Hecarim are the only ones who bother lately – we go to reap our share of lives. Or souls." He grinned.

"That's horrible," Ashe said. "But I fail to understand why you tell me this, even if you are going."

"That is why I'm telling you. I wouldn't want you to worry your pretty little head over my whereabouts when I vanish for a day or two."

"The only thing I worry for is the well-being of Bilgewater's citizens," she said. It was a lie, but he needn't know that.

"Oh, they face the Harrowing every year," he said. "If they don't hide in a temple of a high place, they go to their deaths knowingly. Not that hiding will help them, given enough years and souls taken."

"You are a monster," she said flatly.

"You've said that quite a few times, now. I am disappointed with your lack of originality."

She rolled her eyes, lying back down on her bed. The spider had left sometime during their conversation. She made a mental note to wash the furs.

"Bilgewater," Ashe contemplated. "Hm. I've heard it to be an interesting place. Perhaps I ought to visit soon."

The flames in Thresh's eye sockets gleamed. "It is a… dangerous city. Take care to not become involved in anything beyond you, archer."

She smiled beatifically. "But if something could threaten me, it would put the civilians of Bilgewater into greater danger. What would I be if I didn't keep an eye out for them?" she said, then paused. "Theoretically speaking, of course."

"Of course," he agreed. "But theoretically, one would have to be extremely foolish to play such a game with me."

"Then it would, theoretically, be good that I'm such a fool, no?"

His smile grew vicious.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: A longer chapter, in which we have one Kraken Priestess and one Shadow of War making guest appearances. Shadow and Fortune was a good read to help with this one.**

 **Due to lack of Thresh being a creepy creeper last chapter, here we have him being an extremely creepy creeper. And more emotional trauma for Ashe, of course, because we can't have a chapter without that. :3**

 **Considering making next chapter an interlude, featuring other people. Yeah, those exist.**

 **Review, favorite, follow, etc. Thanks for reading, guys!**

* * *

 **IX – Nowhere to hide.**

Even as far away as she was from the Docks, Bilgewater stank of fish and salt. The buildings were constructed close together as well, and the streets overflowed with people. It added up to a thoroughly unpleasant experience for Ashe, who was used to open spaces and fresh air.

Still, she had to be there. The Freljord was relatively calm for once, with Sejuani backing off, so she felt – not comfortable, but less uneasy about leaving for a while.

That didn't mean she had to like being in this city. It was loud and cramped, and her manner of dress and the cloth bundle hiding her bow on her back drew strange looks. At least it wasn't due to her hair.

But her dislike for the city aside, the best word to describe Bilgewater was lively. The people had so much energy. No one walked sedately, they all bustled about from place to place. As short a time as she had spent here, it was impossible to imagine it without the energy.

Unfortunately, the Harrowing seemed to be a taboo topic.

Ashe sat with a stiff back at a table in a tavern, occasionally glancing around nervously. The other patrons paid her little mind, as they were all involved in their own conversations. It was a small blessing.

A waiter, a burly man, walked up to her. "Can I get you something?" he asked gruffly.

She shook her head. "No thank you," she said, "but can I ask a question?"

"Make it quick, I ain't got all day."

"It's about the Harrowing –" she began.

The waiter cut her off. "Girlie, you look like you're not from these parts, so I'm guessing you don't know. People don't talk about that, alright?"

"But –"

"Don't talk about it here. Dark times. Drives paying customers away." He scowled, but then his expression softened slightly. "Look, if you really wanna know anything – I dunno, maybe you're one of those scholarly people from Ionia – go to the temple."

"The temple?" she said.

"Yeah, the one up on the rocks for the Bearded Lady. There's a lady there that might talk about it if you really wanna know something," he replied.

"Thank you."

"Now get out if you're not buying anything."

Ashe left.

* * *

The imposing temple stood high on the rocks. Its wooden doors loomed tall, the carvings on the oak nearly alive to Ashe's eyes.

She looked around. Few people were near, the slope not being the easiest of climbs, and the ones who were around paid her no attention.

She knocked on the doors.

There was no response for a minute, and she briefly feared nobody was inside and she was making a fool of herself. Then the doors swung ponderously open, revealing a large, dark-skinned woman with brown hair.

"I don't see many visitors at this time of the week," she said. "Who might you be?"

"Er – my name is Ashe," said the archer. "I was directed to this place because I had questions. This is the temple of the Bearded Lady, correct?"

The imposing woman smiled. "Yes, this is the temple of Nagakabouros. You can come in." She stepped away from the doors.

The inside of the temple was grand, with images in bright relief on the walls and an enormous idol resting in a depression on the floor. The people of the Freljord did not tend toward worshipping gods, so the inside of a holy place was a sight her eyes had never met before. A few men and women in religious garb stood about. Gazes fell upon the two briefly when they entered.

"May I ask your name?" Ashe said.

"The name's Illaoi," was the response. "I'm the Truth Seeker. Or the high priestess, since you don't know what that means."

"A pleasure to meet you," she said.

Illaoi waved a hand, dismissive. "You came here for a reason. What do you want to ask?"

She swallowed, wringing her hands. "I was… I wished to ask about the Harrowing. Nobody would speak of it, but I was pointed here."

"Their lips are sealed for a reason," said the other woman, her expression grim.

"I apologize for my presumption."

"Never said it was a good reason." She cracked a smile. "They're afraid. The people here, they're rough-and-tumble alright, but most all of them hide away when the Black Mist comes. Can't blame them, really. Their steel won't bite the undead."

"You speak as if you are not included in that category," Ashe pointed out.

"'Course not," Illaoi scoffed. "Half my job is keeping those abominations outta here."

"Abominations?"

"They're outside Nagakabouros' cycle. No life, no motion," she explained.

Her eyes dropped to her feet, nervously.

"But there's something else you want to say, isn't there? No one asks about the Harrowing without a good reason, especially not foreigners."

Ashe opened her mouth to speak, rethought her words, and then closed it again. "This place," she began hesitantly, "during the Harrowing, do you – is it a safe place?"

Illaoi looked at her through narrowed eyes. Her gaze was shrewd. "I'll keep anyone who finds their way here safe as best I can," she said. "Anything you want to tell me, girl?"

"No, there is nothing," she said, after a moment.

* * *

The first sign was the flickering of the lights lining the street, whose flames jumped, sputtered, then went dark.

Out over the ocean, the stars began to dim. A strange fog rolled in over the water.

All around her, people swore and fled the streets. The noise was oddly muted. The previously bustling city now stood devoid of life.

Ashe stood by the Docks, alone, watching the advance of the Black Mist. A few stragglers spared a moment to yell, "Run, idiot!" at her as they raced to shelter.

The mist had almost reached land before she turned and headed for higher ground, path winding vaguely in the direction of the temple. She slung her bow off her back. Ice arrows formed on her fingers.

* * *

The Black Mist was cold, but it was not the cold Ashe was used to. Rather than sapping heat, it seemed to steal her energy, her life force, slowing her steps and dulling her reaction time.

A screeching, flapping thing dive-bombed her from behind. She ducked out of its trajectory and shot it full of arrows in one motion. Its screech turned pained and it flew away, but she knew better than to relax.

She wasn't sure why her bow hurt the undead creatures. But the ice pierced their bodies and the frost slowed their movements, so she sent a prayer of thanks to Avarosa and decided to not question it.

Someone screamed just around the corner.

She ran toward the sound. The source of the scream was immediately evident – two children, a boy and a girl, were trying to defend another boy lying on the ground from the undead. Their scavenged weapons had no effect on the spectres.

She aimed, and let her arrows fly. Most of the creatures dissolved into mist, and the ones that didn't fled, leaving the area safe for now.

The boy stared at her with wide eyes, while the girl turned to her downed friend, attempting to treat his wounds. The subject of her attentions remained unresponsive.

"Who are you?" the boy asked.

"Someone who can help you," Ashe said. "Is your friend on the ground capable of walking?"

He shook his head. "One of those things got him. He isn't waking up."

She sighed, saying, "Then can you carry him?" Why were these children out here, anyway?

The boy's mouth set into a pale line. "We're gonna."

"He's not bleeding, but I dunno why," the girl piped up. "Where he got cut, he should be."

"If you two can carry your friend, then do so," the archer ordered. No time to be kind. "Follow me."

She waited until they were ready to move, then set off to where she knew a plaza with a fountain to be. When she was last there, a group had barred themselves into a store for protection. She could collect them and move on to the temple.

It was a short trip, but before they had crossed half its distance, a host of ghostly knights on horseback appeared and blocked their path. She cursed. They had come from the direction of the plaza.

"Do you see the temple on the top of the rocks?" she said quietly, nodding her head toward the indicated building.

"Yes," the girl squeaked.

"Run to there."

Ashe launched a volley, the children ran, and the spectral knights charged.

She stood her ground until they were nearly upon her, firing two more rounds and dwindling their numbers. When they got too close, she turned and ran after the children.

A sword passed a bare few inches by her ear, shearing off several locks of hair.

She cursed again, then turned and focused all her will into one arrow. It had barely left her bow when it hit the first of the monsters, exploding into an icy cloud and stunning them for a moment. Wasting no time, she fled, pushing herself to speeds she never thought herself capable of.

The streets and buildings flew by, her feet pounding a frantic rhythm on the pavement. A four-legged, glowing beast blocked her way with bared teeth, but a single motion sent arrows flying, dissolving it into smoke and letting her pass.

The temple drew closer. As she climbed the trail, the Black Mist grew thinner and the distant screams dimmed.

She fell to a knee before the temple. A hand rose to knock on the doors, but they swung open before she could do so. Illaoi stood in front of her, scowling.

"Girl," she greeted. "What interesting times we see each other again in."

Ashe struggled upright, her body shaking. "Have any children arrived here?" she panted.

"No. Why?"

She looked the way she had come. No living beings climbed the path.

"So damned useless," she whispered. "Can't save anyone! Why do I even try?"

A raised eyebrow from the other woman. "I should ask about you and your suspicious timing, girl, but you should come inside first."

She shook her head. "I can't," she said.

"Don't throw away your life to try and play hero," Illaoi said, frowning. "No one deserves to die here tonight."

"That was not my meaning," Ashe said. "I'm not trying to save anyone – well, I am, but there's something else. There's someone I must find. Do you – do you know the feeling of knowing, with every part of you, that you must do something?"

"I keep the people here safe. I clear out all the monsters that try to get up here," was the response. "That's what I have to do. Whoever you're looking for, are they worth it? Do you even know they're alive?"

A tiny, sardonic smile graced her lips. "I am certain he is somewhere out there. As for worth it, that's hardly relevant."

"Then go," Illaoi told her. It was difficult to tell, but she almost looked pleased. "And don't stop moving."

"I will not die today," she promised.

* * *

After the relative peace of the temple, the empty city felt colder. Fewer refugees roamed the streets, whether due to deaths or to finding shelter, Ashe did not know.

Conspicuously absent despite the clear signs of struggle and death were corpses. That, she decided, was not a good thing.

Yells resounded from ahead, from the market's central square. She increased her pace, hoping to arrive in time to lend aid.

It was useless. The Black Mist clouded her vision until she was in the square itself, at which point she realized it held no living beings any longer. Nothing living – the ghost knights were there, and her sudden entrance attracted their attention.

But something was different, this time. At the front of the host stood what she first took to be a dread knight. That thought was quickly dispelled. It was not a phantasm of a man on a horse, but a being that was an unholy conglomeration of both, an undead centaur clad in plate, form lined in ghostly flames.

"Hecarim," she muttered.

Behind her, a whimper. Ashe risked a glance to find a young man crouched behind rubble, face white as snow. She swore. So much for running.

"Run to the temple," she hissed at the man, hoping he understood, just as the Shadow of War tired of the standoff. The centaur and the knights changed, and she had no more attention to spare the man.

She let a volley of ice fly in a fluid motion. Her arrows gave the horde pause, but Hecarim didn't seem to notice her attack. His charge increased in speed, hooves striking sparks on the cobblestone, glaive lowered, ready to rend flesh.

She launched herself to the side in a tumble, with a quickness born of desperation. The centaur had built up too much momentum to stop himself easily, so he overshot her position before righting himself.

The man she'd saved was fleeing, but not out of sight yet. Needed to buy more time.

"So, Hecarim," she shouted, "was your mother the horse, or your father?"

Her taunt actually stopped him for a moment, seeming bewildered. Perhaps no human had ever summoned up the courage to taunt him before.

His next advance was slower, more careful. "How do you know my name, mortal?" he said, his voice like the clashing of swords and the tearing of flesh.

Ashe's fear no longer gave her pause, instead swirling together with adrenaline to give her boldness. "I'm sorry," she said, forming more arrows, "that's a secret."

The sound of chains dragging on stone –

"I'd hardly have thought that to be a secret," said Thresh.

"Chain Warden," Hecarim greeted.

"Hecarim. Terribly sorry, but this one is mine."

She turned to look at the reaper. He stood casually several yards behind her, looking more – excited? happy? – than she'd ever seen him.

The centaur shifted, clearly unhappy with the pronouncement. "She challenged me," he argued.

"You misunderstand my meaning," Thresh said.

"What – you've already claimed this one's soul?"

"Unfortunately," Ashe muttered. She hadn't meant it to be heard, but Hecarim switched his focus to her.

"In that case," he said, "you are slated for a worse fate than any I could deliver." With those cheerful parting words, he and the rest of the knights turned and departed.

She watched him leave before looking at Thresh once more. Somehow, he had gotten right next to her without her notice. She jumped back and aimed her still-drawn bow at him.

"Threatening me?" he said, with a lilt of mirth. "And after I just saved you from a horrible death, too."

She growled, pointing her bow higher before releasing the string. The arrow flew well over his head.

Suddenly, Thresh was far too close, a few inches away with a burning-cold hand cradling her chin. Chains slithered around her limbs.

"How rude," he whispered. Ethereal hooks bit through her clothing and into her skin, leaving a horrible chill different from ice.

"Sorry," she said on reflex.

"Hm, I don't think a simple apology will be enough," he said. "You were a pain to find, you know. And when I finally track you down, I find you've decided to play with Hecarim." The hooks dug deeper.

The pain was sharp, but instead of showing it Ashe scowled. "There was a man hiding. I needed to buy time, to let him get to safety."

He laughed, and the chains wound tighter. She winced. "Are you trying to save people tonight?" he hissed. "Of course you would."

"Did you believe I came here to hide?" she retorted.

"There is no true place in Bilgewater to hide from the Harrowing. Nevertheless, I ought to stop you before your actions become… irritating," he said.

"I would stop of my own accord should there be nobody in danger."

"Oh, but the night is far from over," he chuckled, a tug pulling her closer still. Though, she thought distantly, he kept her away from the lantern. "Why do you insist on being a hero? These people are nothing to you."

"Heroism has nothing to do with it," she said. It was an echo of her earlier words to the priestess. "Too many in my life have died because I didn't – couldn't do anything. My debt to the dead is already unpayable."

The chains retracted, leaving Ashe stumbling for her balance. The wounds they left did not bleed, though they had cut into her veins.

"No more of your nobility tonight," said Thresh. "After all the effort I spent finding you, you are not leaving my sight."

"Or else what?" she dared to ask.

"Or I hunt you down again and put a leash on you," he responded, grinning.

"That won't be necessary," she muttered.

He set off. She followed a few steps behind, like a shadow. Or a ghost, she thought. How ironic.

* * *

They walked. It might have been minutes, or it might have been hours. Exhaustion crept up on her stealthily, sped up by the unnatural mist.

"Would you look at that?" Thresh said. He sounded cheerful. Ashe shivered.

"Look at what?" she asked warily.

"A fool who thinks he can hide by barring a door."

A swarm of undead creatures barreled into the door of a nearby building, each impact causing cracks to ring out into the air. It held for a bare few seconds, like a snow sculpture against a crashing tide, before breaking with an almighty snap.

"Come out and play, mortal," he called into the dark building.

"You don't believe that will work, do you?" she said.

"I dearly hope it doesn't."

Silence for a moment, as she followed him inside. The building looked familiar, almost, but she couldn't place it.

"I don't suppose I could convince you to spare him," Ashe mumbled.

He laughed, twirling his scythe. After another second with no response, the hook shot out toward a dark corner hidden by a table. It caught the struggling man hiding there.

The man screamed as Thresh dragged him inexorably forward. He looked familiar as well – then it registered. This was the tavern she'd been in earlier. That was the waiter.

"Thresh," she said.

He ignored her, his chains dragging the man to the floor, screaming.

She made a decision.

An arrow flew through the air, catching the man in the head with a thunk. He collapsed like a ragdoll.

Thresh whirled on her, expression dark. "Murder, archer?"

Ashe's face was impassive. "If I cannot save him, if he cannot escape you, I can at least grant him a kinder death," she said.

"There is no such thing as a kind death during the Harrowing," he said. "Do you know the true nature of the Black Mist?"

She looked around at the fog, suddenly noticing how it swirled around his lantern, like water near a drain. It made little sense, unless –

"Souls," she whispered. "The Black Mist is made of souls."

"Of the damned spirits from those who die on the Isles and during the Harrowing," he confirmed.

"But – no," she snarled. "If that is the fate of the people who die tonight anyway, then I might at least give them a better end then being tortured to death."

Thresh growled. "And ruin my fun, as well."

"That's a side benefit," she chirped, smiling cheekily.

He didn't speak, and briefly she feared she'd pushed him too far. Then he began to laugh.

Ashe edged toward the door.

"I suppose I'll have to find my entertainment elsewhere, then," he said. "How do you feel about, ah, spending some quality time together?"

He swept up to her, grabbed her arm, and stalked down the street. She nearly tripped, then recovered and hurried after him to avoid being dragged.

* * *

The water by the Docks was filled with the animated corpses of sea monsters and the twisted wrecks of ships they had broken. The ocean itself was black and roiling, enormous waves and angry whirlpools wracking the coastline. Strange ghost-lights flickered along the shore occasionally. With the Black Mist casting an eerie pall over the scene, it was almost –

"Pretty," Ashe commented.

She felt the weight of Thresh's stare without needing to turn and look.

"In the way a blizzard is pretty," she clarified. "A painting of it would be a masterpiece, but here, the consequences are all too real."

"Good. I was nearly concerned," he said.

"I was caught in a blizzard once," she said, yawning. It had been a long night, and she was tired. "While I was hunting, a long time ago."

"Oh?"

She nodded. "With a party. We were too far out when the snow began to fall. Because I wanted to stay longer. I hadn't killed anything yet."

"Bloodthirsty as a child, were you?" he asked.

"Mostly prideful. But then we were caught in the storm, and some of my people starved and froze while I lived," she said.

"Is that where your silly saving-people complex comes from?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

They stood in silence, gazing out over the sea.

"The night is nearly over," Thresh said.

"Sunrise over the ocean," she muttered. "How romantic." She yawned again.

"Are you tired?"

"Yes," she said, "but I'm afraid to fall asleep."

"Of all the things to be afraid of. Why?" he questioned.

"Because I'm so cold. Because –" she grasped for a comparison, – it's like hypothermia. If I sleep, I fear I may not wake up. I'm not making sense, am I?"

"Hm. The cold does pose a danger to mortals."

Ashe rubbed her eyes. "I should get to the temple."

"The temple?" he said.

"The building up on the rocks," she replied. "You can see it from here." She tried to move, but her legs had locked in place, and she staggered into him.

"Go to sleep," said Thresh.

She tried to summon a protest, but her eyelids were heavy, and she soon slipped off into dreamless sleep.


	10. Interlude One

**A/N: Right, interlude. I'm not entirely confident in my characterization of so many people, but it's what I felt would fit best. Wrapping up this "arc", for lack of a better word, and starting fresh.**

 **The next part may be delayed somewhat as I figure out what the heck I'm gonna write. Just warning you, so no one thinks I've died or something.**

 **As always, fav/follow/review if you wanna, and thanks for reading.**

* * *

 **Interlude One – Questions**

Now that the sun was up again, the people in the temple slowly left to go back to their daily lives. Some of them thanked her, but Illaoi waved them off. She did what she should've done, and she'd keep doing it until she couldn't anymore.

Anyway, she was a bit distracted with the white-haired girl passed out in the corner, curled around that strange bow. What was her name, Soot? Dust? Right, Ashe.

Her wounds had started bleeding during the night. The priestess had bandaged and treated them, but the injuries were more of the soul than the flesh. There wasn't a lot to do but give them time to heal on their own.

The girl stirred, groaning.

"Finally awake, girl?" Illaoi said.

"Cold," said Ashe, sitting up.

She snorted. "Of course you're cold. With those wounds of yours, it'd be bad if you weren't. Speaking of which, mind explaining where you got those?"

"I… was injured."

"I can see that." She sighed. "So you didn't end up on the wrong end of, say, one of the stronger creature's weapon?"

"No?" the girl offered.

"And I guess I didn't see you be dropped off at my doorstep by a reaper last night then, either."

Ashe paled. It was impressive, considering how white she'd already been. "Er, no?"

Illaoi looked at her, eyes narrowed.

"I wouldn't have known what happened. I was unconscious."

"Girl, I can tell when there's something you don't want to say," she said, shaking her head. "I'm going to pretend I believe you, and that you don't stink of the undead way too much for a single night running from them. But –" and here she jabbed a finger at the archer, "– when you get in way over your head, come here."

"In over my head," Ashe muttered, a humorless smile pulling at her mouth. "I'm – I apologize, I've been rather rude, and I thank you for your offer, but –"

"But what?"

She looked down at the floor. "Nothing. I simply have my own burdens to bear."

"Sharing your burdens cuts their weight in half," said Illaoi.

There was no reply.

After a minute, she asked, "Did you end up finding who you were looking for?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, I did. More he found me, actually. He… sort of saved me, too."

"Something you couldn't handle?" she said.

"Hecarim," the girl admitted.

"The Shadow of War?" Illaoi huffed. "Girl, I'm honestly surprised you're still alive."

There was a whisper that sounded like, "Sometimes I am too," but it wasn't loud enough to hear properly. "My bow could hurt them," Ashe said before any questions could be asked, gesturing with the weapon.

"That's not – what lets you hit them is your belief," said the priestess. "You have a strong spirit."

A strange shine appeared in the girl's eyes. "So I've been told."

She raised an eyebrow.

The archer picked herself up off the ground with a sigh. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I must be leaving now. I have duties to attend to back in the Freljord."

"You're from all the way up north, and you came here on the day of the Harrowing? Only to leave right after?" Illaoi said.

A shrug.

"I should be asking a lot of questions right now."

Ashe made a pained face. "Please, do not ask them. I would not be able to answer."

For a second, she thought of testing her spirit. The girl was brave, of course, and had good drive. But as quickly as she thought of the idea, she realized it wasn't a good one.

Despite the strength of her spirit, she was fragile, like a window with cracks in it. There was a lack of sureness about her, self-doubt and caution. She wasn't ready for the Test of Nagakabouros now.

Maybe one day.

"If you need to go, then go," she said. "Don't stay here if you need to be somewhere else."

The girl bowed her head. "Thank you," she said, smiling, "for helping me. And for – for not asking questions."

"Asking questions isn't my job," Illaoi scoffed. "But remember, my door is open."

With one last "thank you", Ashe walked out the doors of the temple, head held high despite her injuries.

* * *

Elise moved the teacup to the left a few inches.

There. Perfect.

"Would you be darlings and bring me the teapot?" she called to her spiderlings. They scuttled off the silk-wrapped bundles in the corner and delivered her the requested item.

She hummed a cheerful tune as she poured steaming tea into each of the cups resting on the rickety table. The aroma was delectable. She needed to get more of this brand of tea, but she unfortunately had an arrest-on-sight order in the area of Ionia where these leaves grew.

The Ionians were ridiculously oversensitive. No one in Zaun or Noxus cared if a few of the dredges of society never returned from a religious pilgrimage. Perhaps she could ask Evelynn to purchase some in her stead.

The door opened with a creak.

"Elise," said Thresh, "you are in my home."

"Oh please," she sniffed. "This shack is hardly deserving of the name. Besides, you're barely ever here, these days."

"Why are you here?" he ground out.

She picked up a teacup and offered it to him. "Care for some tea?"

He took the cup, then placed it back on the table. It ruined the careful symmetry she'd spent so long creating with the rest of the set. She pouted.

"Even if I were capable of drinking it," he said, "I know you've put your venom into it again."

"I wouldn't!" Elise held a hand to her chest, affecting a wounded expression. "That became stale after the first two times, anyhow. Even Yorick wouldn't fall for it again."

He sighed. "Go bother Hecarim," he said.

"Oh, I will," she promised. "The dear knows I wished to accompany this Harrowing, yet he still leaves me here. Honestly."

"Because you are mortal."

"I am not!" she snarled, before quickly recovering her composure. "Nevertheless, this is the first time you've been here in such a long while. I thought you would appreciate some company."

"I wouldn't," Thresh said, unimpressed.

"And I also wanted to take the chance to ask you some questions," she chirped, clasping her hands.

"This is what I left to avoid," he muttered.

"Don't be that way, dear," she said. "You can hardly fault me for wondering what has kept you so preoccupied these past few months."

"I think you'll find that I can."

"Didn't you say you wished to visit the Freljord?"

He was silent.

"What interested you so much as to keep you in that place? Did you find a nice girl," she asked, peering at him.

"How is it possible to be this aggravating?" he said. The question was directed into the air to his left.

"You did!" Elise crowed. "How sweet. Don't you worry about my feelings, I always knew I would be replaced in your heart someday." She faked wiping away a tear.

"The only place for you in my heart is the place where I plot grisly deaths for those who annoy me," Thresh growled.

She ignored him, instead sipping at a cup of tea.

"Why don't you tell me about her?" she said.

"Why do you want to know anything?" he shot back, instantly suspicious.

"Protectiveness? How cute. Rest assured, my intentions are pure," she said, waving her teacup. "I have no… untoward motives as to your lady friend. Or is she more than that?"

She had the pleasure of seeing the feared Chain Warden blanch in response to her question.

"You overstep your boundaries, Spider Queen," he fumed.

Elise set down the cup and raised her hands in the air, a gesture of apology. "I was merely curious."

"Your curiosity is unwelcome." He said nothing else for a length of time, long enough that she believed he had grown too infuriated with her to divulge more information. But then, "How do you feel about Hecarim?"

"What – it's complicated," she replied, the sudden turnabout of the interrogation catching her off guard.

"A phrase also applicable to my situation," said Thresh.

She tapped her lips with a sharp fingernail. "Who is she, if I may ask?"

"A… leader of a tribe in the Freljord," he said.

"You know as well as I my meaning was not that," she chided, hands on her hips. "Who is she to you?"

"She has bright dreams," he said, more grudgingly this time. "Far too noble. She wants to bring peace to the Freljord."

"Last I checked, that place was divided into over a hundred warring groups."

"Yes."

She considered for a moment. "And what of your, ah, favorite hobby?"

"Collecting souls is not my hobby," he retorted.

"The question, if you would."

"I made a deal with her," he said. "Should she fail in her goal, she gives up her soul. Willingly."

Elise's eyes narrowed. "It seems overly much time and effort to spend for one girl."

"Do you think I don't know that?" he said.

"What is she to you, really?" she prodded. "And don't feed me the line about suffering creating the most delicious souls."

Thresh sat down heavily on a chair. "I can't answer that question," he replied.

"Why ever not?"

"Because I am not certain of the answer, myself."

She sipped the cooling tea to fill the ensuing silence.

"What is that?" he asked suddenly, pointing toward the bundles of silk in the corner. Ah, he had finally noticed.

"You left some of your work behind due to your abrupt vacation," she said, smirking.

"Did you – you killed the humans I left in the dungeon?"

She shrugged. There was no repentance in the gesture. "Most were dead already."

"I wasn't finished with them!" he hissed.

"Weren't you? They looked so lonely and abandoned," she said. "Besides, my children must feed to grow strong."

Thresh growled incoherently, then stormed out the door.

Elise stood, setting the now-empty teacup on the table again. Perhaps it was time to have a talk with Hecarim.

* * *

"Senna!" Lucian called, rushing into their shared hotel room.

The named party looked up from her book. It was a shame – the plot had finally started to get exciting. But, whatever had her husband so riled up had to be important, so she folded the page corner and closed the novel with only a vague feeling of regret.

"What is it?" she said.

He slammed a newspaper down on the kitchenette table. "Read this."

Senna glanced over the headlines. "Is Prince Jarvan IV's Extended Absence Cover for Elopement with Luxanna Crownguard?" she read. "Dear, I love you, but I didn't agree to get married because I took you for the kind of person to be interested in petty gossip."

Lucian looked down at the paper, a blush rising to his face. "Not that part," he mumbled. "The one below that."

"I'm questioning why you have a Demacian tabloid in the first place," she said, but looked at the indicated part. Her eyes grew wide. "Is this –"

He nodded. "I took this newspaper because it was free, but all of the ones I saw confirmed it."

"The Harrowing," she whispered. "We missed it."

"We did," he agreed.

She threaded her hands into her hair, tugging at the brown locks. "We – we should've gone to Bilgewater sooner. Why didn't we go sooner?"

"We couldn't have," he stated grimly. "You were still recovering until yesterday."

"It shouldn't have mattered," Senna said, shaking her head. "It wasn't that serious. I could've travelled, I could've fought."

"Love, it was serious," he said. "You almost died on the Shadow Isles."

"And many people did die in Bilgewater!" she shouted. "Because I couldn't – because I was dead weight on the Isles, and got myself run through by that centaur! The same one that was leading the Harrowing." She pointed at the article.

"Don't you dare call yourself dead weight," said Lucian. "I would've been hurt just as badly."

"But still, more people are dead because we couldn't be there to help."

"I know," he sighed. "I thought it wouldn't happen for a while longer, but that was stupid of me."

"I hate feeling so useless," Senna muttered.

"All we can do now is get better, and keep hunting those things," he said.

"Have to work out a training schedule," she said. "Maybe we can contact that Vayne woman. She lives here in Demacia, doesn't she?"

"At any rate, we just flat-out have to improve. It hurts my pride, but I think the Shadow Isles showed how far we still have to go."

She shivered. "Those Isles are a nest of evil. Sometimes I'm afraid that we'll never be good enough to take them on and win."

"We can start smaller," Lucian said. "Destroy the lesser undead."

"We've been doing that already, and it hasn't made enough of a difference," she argued. "They're – it's like taking out the foot soldiers in an army. There's no permanent effect unless the leaders go."

"Even if we can't invade the Isles again, that doesn't mean we won't get our chance to do that," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Some of them leave for the Harrowing," he contemplated. "There were confirmed sightings of that centaur, as you said, as well as a reaper."

"Are you suggesting we camp out in Bilgewater and wait for the next Harrowing?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. At least, not for a while, until next year," he said. "But if some of them leave the Isles for the Harrowing, it's reasonable to assume they leave for other things."

"Are you sure?" Senna's tone was dubious.

"What else would you suggest doing? There's nothing else to do."

There was a moment of solemn silence.

"We should ask around, look into rumors of undead in places other than the Isles," Lucian said.

"What, do you intend to walk up to random people on the street and ask them where we might find undead?" she snarked.

"There's always someone who tells stories," he said. "Anyway, we could ask the Vayne woman, as you suggested."

"She hunts black magic users. I don't know if she'd know anything about the undead."

"It's a start," he pointed out, "and we have to start somewhere, you realize."

"Yes, I know." She sighed. "It seems like such an impossible task, sometimes."

"But we can do it together," he said.


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: Finally got this one up. Sadly, I'm currently in North Carolina because I have RL things to do, meaning the next one will be delayed too.**

 **In other news, if anyone wants to leave a review telling me what they might want to see happen in this story, I'd be grateful. I'm also actually considering making another story, a sort of collection of Freljord lore framed as tales they tell kids, like what Ashe is canonically fond of. Not sure yet.**

 **Considering M rating again, probably for real this time. By the way, thanks crazyLantern for inspiration (coughcreativetortureideascough) and for proving that anyone who writes Thresh's personality to any degree of accuracy probably has… issues? Jkjk I'm sure you're a perfectly normal, likeable person.**

* * *

 **X – I won't lead us astray.**

Ashe wasn't sure why, but she was half-expecting the Freljord to have imploded in her absence. It was silly, as she had been gone but a few days, and her tribe could handle themselves perfectly well.

Still, the unchanged state of her home instilled a sense of vertigo, almost. The events in Bilgewater had no bearing on this place. As was logical, of course, but it shook her.

In the early morning hours the day after her return, she woke to Thresh standing over her bed, leering.

"Miss me, archer?" he said.

"It's been all of two days since I last saw you," she grumbled, then rolled over and fell asleep again.

And so her life settled back into its strange, fragile normalcy as if it had never been otherwise.

There were duties to be attended to. Another skirmish with Sejuani, hunting season picking up, and shortly after her return, she was due to meet with yet another tribe. This time, it was the Frostguard, an old and noble tribe whose purpose was to guard against evil creatures of the ice.

Perhaps there were few things to guard against these days, but the Frostguard were still widely regarded with honor and respect. Therefore, it was a relief to find that, rather than haughty or cold, their leader was actually very amiable, and not much older than herself.

"My name is Lissandra," the woman introduced herself. "I've heard many interesting things about you, Queen Ashe."

"Thank you," said Ashe. "If I may ask, are you named for the eldest of the three sisters in the old tales?"

"That is the origin of my name, yes," Lissandra replied. "Though, I am surprised you recognize the moniker. Vanishingly few these days take the time to learn of legends."

"I was a bit of an odd child."

"Actually," she said, "you remind me quite a bit of my sister."

"Why, thank you. How so?" the archer asked.

"Your idealism. She, too, cared a great deal about the people of the Freljord," was the response.

"Your sister sounds like an interesting person," she said. "Will I perchance be able to meet her?"

"Unfortunately not. She… passed a long time ago."

Ashe covered her mouth with a hand. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so insensitive."

Lissandra smiled bitterly. "As I said, it was a long time ago. I have some regrets, but I have long passed the point where I should be so easily offended," she reassured.

"Nevertheless, I apologize for bringing it up. Losing family is always painful." A pause. "I… I actually lost my mother, not so long ago. Even if we hadn't always seen eye-to-eye, it still hurt."

"How odd," she said. "I could say the same of my sister. Our relationship fell apart, toward the end. I wish things had gone differently, that she had made different choices."

Ashe offered a lopsided smile.

"Now, should we move on to less grim topics?" Lissandra said, with a delicate cough. "You wanted to discuss a truce, no?"

"Ah, yes," she said. "I brought a document outlining the truce terms –"

"Not a truce."

"Excuse me?"

"Not a truce," the woman repeated. "I was thinking, instead, of an alliance, in which our tribes could lend each other mutual aid."

"I would be honored," said Ashe. "I suppose we'll be drawing up a new treaty, then."

"Naturally," Lissandra said, "but before that, I have a question, if you don't mind terribly."

"What is it?"

"Is it true that you can create ice out of nothing?" she asked.

The archer ducked her head, blushing. "It is due to the bow, and only arrows," she said.

"Have you tried to create anything else?"

"In fact, no," she realized. "I shall try it later. Thank you for the suggestion."

* * *

The desk was covered in frost, again. Ashe groaned and cleaned the surface with a rag.

It was nonsensical, really. She created another arrow, holding the ice-flash feeling of its coalescence in her mind, before tossing it onto the steadily growing pile of arrows on her bed. The sensation was unique, and it should not have been so difficult to reproduce.

"Archer, are you trying to single-handedly fulfill your tribe's ammunitions needs?" said Thresh.

"Oh, do stop talking," she muttered.

"You wound me," he said.

"I am not, anyhow. I am attempting to create something other than arrows out of ice."

He eyed the heap of ice on her bed. "To remarkable success, I see."

"Quiet," she said, sighing. "I don't understand why I can't make this work. At this rate, I'll end up with nothing but dozens of ice arrows for my efforts."

He wandered over to the bed to pick up and examine an arrow. "Do these melt?" he asked.

"I haven't ever thought about that. Actually, now that I do, I believe they are made of true ice, so they would never melt," she said.

"How interesting."

"Perhaps I might sell them to Demacia or some other southern place," Ashe said sardonically. "They could use them to make ice sculptures." She paused. "Though – can you carve?"

"Yes. But not ice." He grinned.

She decided to ignore the implications of that statement.

"I cannot, but even if I could, I don't know what I would make," she mused. Wait. "I don't know – I'm such a fool." She brought a hand to her forehead.

"Hadn't you already realized that?" Thresh said.

"When I make an arrow," she said, "I concentrate on the image of the arrow. But I haven't had a specific form in mind for these attempts, I've been focusing so much on the ice itself."

She sat down on her bed, examining the arrows again. Then, she cupped her hands together, palms facing up. What to make? A bird, she decided, in honor of the hawk that had saved her life.

An icy cloud condensed in her hands, the mist slowly condensing into form – unlike her previous attempts, in which this stage failed dramatically. The frost came together into a miniature ice bird in a tiny, crystalline explosion.

Ashe stared at it. The sculpture was extremely realistic, with individual feathers visible at the right angle of light. She smiled.

The bird fluttered out of her hands, and she recoiled off the bed with an undignified squawk.

"How graceful," Thresh commented.

She pointed a shaking finger at the animated piece of ice. "What. How is it alive?"

"It isn't," he said, examining the bird. "It has no soul. It is simply a construct animated by magic."

"I am not a mage."

He shrugged. "It matters little, in this case. Does it serve any purpose but imitating a live creature?"

As if on cue, the bird flitted up to her and dissolved into an ice cloud. Her eyebrows rose.

"I receive its – memories, for lack of a better word, when it disincorporates," she realized.

"Indeed? That has… interesting potential," he said.

"Yes, it does," Ashe agreed. "I wonder if anything else I create has strange properties?" She held out a hand, palm up, and focused on the first object that came to mind, before realizing it might not be a good idea.

The thought came too late. With another icy puff of mist, a frozen replica of a lantern sat in her hand.

"Er. Sorry?" she said weakly.

"Cute, archer," Thresh said, before snatching the item out of her hand.

She glanced down, cheeks tinging pink. In the act of looking down, she noticed –

"My bed is covered in ice," she said.

"Well done," he said, clapping sarcastically.

"I'll camp out tonight," she decided. "It's nice outside, and I'm sure the guards won't mind a change of scenery."

"Don't you have more things to attend to?"

"That envoy can wait. I cannot deal with anything else today."

* * *

Among the list of worst things to wake up to, Ashe decided, was someone with a knife about to cut your throat.

Cursing, she rolled out of the way of the descending blade, so it only scored a glancing blow on her upper arm. She scrambled for the bow by her sleeping roll.

The owner of the knife lunged at her, and she braced herself to take the hit. But before he reached her, he suddenly jerked back with a choked cry, a length of chain wrapped around his midsection.

"Hands off my archer," Thresh hissed.

Ashe took the moment to grab her bow, wincing at how the motion aggravated the wound on her arm.

She pointed an arrow at her assailant. The man had maneuvered his knife into a position of attack, but the reaper's scythe sliced open his wrist. With his tendons cut, the weapon fell from unresponsive fingers. The man grunted.

"How rude," said Thresh. "The mortal hasn't even the decency to scream. Ah, well, I suppose I'll have to get creative."

She was pressing her fingers to her wound, searching for something to wrap it with and staunch the flow of blood, but the statement caught her attention.

"Don't," she said.

Thresh turned to her, eyes flashing dangerously. "You presume to command me, Ashe?" He dragged out her name, elongating the sounds, and she shuddered.

She pulled together the scraps of her resolve. "Nobody deserves your creativity," she told him.

"This is becoming tiresome," he said. "This one attempted to take your life, yet you still try to defend him?"

"The punishment should fit the crime," said Ashe, "meaning it should be imprisonment or some such thing, not – not you!"

He sneered. "And the punishment for successful murder?"

She paled.

"Don't say you hadn't wondered why those guards of yours haven't come running?"

She rushed out of the tent.

The bodies of the two guards posted there lay unmoving on the icy earth, throats slit in crescents like gruesome parodies of smiles. Their blood stained the ground red. More people she'd failed to save.

"No," she whispered. How could anyone have done this? "Who is that man? Whose hands does this blood stain?"

"Would you like to know?" Thresh asked, grinning. "I could find out for you." She hadn't noticed him follow her outside.

And, she did – she did want to know. She needed to know, for justice, for these cold corpses who had been people before their lives had been stolen. Who had decided this useless, unprovoked attack, whose head the guilt lay on.

But her sense of justice was far overwhelmed by a deep-seated need to hurt. To make this man, this killer suffer, because how dare he take her people's lives? How dare he?

This wasn't her.

Wasn't it?

"I need to know," she said, hearing her voice from a distance, like an observer listening to the scene. What did her decision matter, in the end? Hadn't Thresh already damned her soul, whether to his lantern or to the hells? "Go – go have your fun."

He laughed. She didn't move, glassy eyes staring at the corpses.

* * *

"I was – I was ordered to assassinate –"

Crunch. A scream.

"Now, I thought we'd agreed to not lie to each other. Another finger it is."

Don't pay attention, Ashe told herself. Think of something else, of simple, happy times. Even though she was the one who had condemned a human being to this. Even though Thresh was doing this because of her.

She couldn't have stopped him, though. It was easy to think, to push the blame off herself. But if she began doing that, it would become so easy to justify anything.

"There were no orders," came a sob.

"That's better." Thresh could sound so pleasant when he wanted to. "And now, you explain why you believed this escapade to be a good idea."

A sharp crack, like a tree branch snapping, and another wavering scream. She didn't look.

"I thought it would help Sejuani, and she'd be happy with me!"

Sejuani. She gritted her teeth.

"But you acted on your own initiative?"

"Y-Yes!"

"Then I know all I need to know. I suppose I could put you out of your misery now… but why should I stop when I'm free to enjoy myself?"

Ashe whipped her head around. "What are you –"

He turned to her, a horrible smile on his face. "Why, didn't you tell me to have fun?" he said. "Don't go changing your mind."

The man – who she still hadn't looked at – seemed to finally notice her presence. Ironic, considering why he was here in the first place. "Help me! Don't let him do this!" he yelled, voice hoarse.

Thresh turned his attention back to his victim. "I don't usually mind begging, not that it does you any good," he said, "as long as it's to me. But to someone else? I believe you've earned yourself a slow death."

This was her fault.

She looked.

The fingers on his right hand were mangled, flesh scraped off and bones crushed beyond recognition. Both legs, hamstrings cut, jutted at unnatural angles. His stomach was sliced open in a cross shape, exposing his innards.

"Stop. Please," said Ashe.

"Why should I?"

She scrambled for a reason. "Because – because if he dies, he can't send a message to Sejuani?"

"Naïve of you, archer," Thresh said. "But, I suppose you're correct. A message must be sent to that woman." He rolled the man onto his front. The ground muffled the sudden cry.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He held his scythe's point to the man's back, sinking the tip into flesh. Then he started carving.

"What are you doing?" she repeated, face white.

"Sending a message," he replied over the weakening screams. "Unless you want to write it yourself?"

"What – no, but –"

"I won't even kill him here, to spare your eyes. I'll leave him somewhere in that woman's territory. Perhaps he'll be found before he freezes or loses too much blood."

Blood ran in red streams down the man's skin, flowing from steadily forming angular letters. His cries grew softer still. Ashe watched, unable to tear her gaze away.

Thresh had nice handwriting.

She shook away the hysterical thought.

"Don't worry so much," he said, casually. He was still writing. "He was not acting under orders, and it was clearly your right to decide his fate, after his attempted assassination. And I'll make sure he'll be found eventually. Do you not trust me?"

The word "no" was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to voice it. The fact made little sense, because she couldn't trust him, no? He was a monster, a psychopath – likely the worst being to put any sort of reliance on. But –

"I might be dead now, if you weren't here," she said. "I would have been killed."

"You flatter me. Probably."

This, and other things. The Harrowing, when she'd blithely gone off with him. The incident with Hanna. Before that, even, the first assassination plot.

She couldn't be rid of him, he had said once, while war had taken away everyone else near her. More than enough time had passed for this monster to become an awful sort of fixture in her life.

She tried to hate that. She couldn't. And when she imagined him gone, imagined never seeing him again, there was a pang of loneliness not unlike the one that had hit her when she'd heard of her mother's death.

It was so, so wrong.

"I should want to run as far away from you as possible. Instead…" Ashe trailed off, shaking her head.

Thresh chuckled. The man had gone still. "You are welcome to try," he said, "if you wish to see how far you would get."

"I don't think I want to try," she admitted quietly.

"Good."


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: Does anyone read these A/Ns? Like, there's probably three people in total who do.**

 **Anyway, talky talky talky chapter. But it's a talky story anyway, so eh. At least I have some vague semblance of a plot.**

 **Thanks short muses for taking a look at this. Thanks everyone for reading. Drop a review/fav/follow if you want to!**

 **Edit: Edited. More specifically, more drama for ice birdie. Thank you, Maxaro!**

 **Edit: Edited again. Woo.**

* * *

 **XI – I own you.**

Sejuani wanted to meet with her.

Well, Ashe thought, this could either turn out well or go down in flames.

She brought no guards with her. It might have been foolish, but she wanted nobody else in the line of fire, so to speak, should things come to worst. At any rate, the only person she trusted to handle the boar rider in combat was herself.

It was irrelevant anyway. The other woman had also forfeited an entourage, though in her case, it was probably more of a display of confidence in her strength rather than concern for her people.

They stared each other off for several moments.

Sejuani broke the silence first. "I misjudged you."

"Excuse me?" she said, blinking in confusion.

"I thought you were a weakling, that you had no spine," said the other. "That you avoided fighting because you couldn't do it, because you were soft."

"And I've dispelled that notion?" Ashe asked.

"More like broke it into little pieces," Sejuani scoffed. "I go out to train in the morning, and I find the mutilated corpse of one of my warriors."

"I… regret his death, but he had killed two of my guards before that, as well as attempted to kill me."

"Oh, that message of yours made that very clear," she said.

Actually, what had the message said? She hadn't read it, a decision that had seemed reasonable at the time, but that she was regretting now.

"Indeed?" Ashe said, instead of disclosing her ignorance.

"Don't get me wrong," said Sejuani. "I'm not seeking revenge for it. Trying to kill someone in their sleep, and thinking I would be pleased? Evidently, he was an idiot as well as a coward. I'm more curious about your response."

A pause. The archer had no reply.

"How did he get that close, anyway?" the woman continued.

"He posed as an envoy from a different tribe," Ashe explained. That had been a thoroughly unpleasant revelation. "I had no reason to suspect any untoward intentions."

"And what, he walked right up to you while you were sleeping, without anyone else noticing?"

Her lips thinned. "I was camping outside that night, if you must know."

"Hm." Sejuani almost looked approving. A trick of the light, perhaps.

"I don't fight because I prefer less violent solutions," Ashe said. "I am perfectly capable of it. I simply do not like it."

"Yes, you've been quite clear about that."

"Would not the same apply to you, though?" she went on. "Despite your demeanor, if you truly wished only battle, would you not have kept up your attacks on my tribe?"

"Oh, I'll get to you eventually," Sejuani said. "But right now, I've been losing good fighters to that bow of yours. There are others to conquer, and I need to be stronger before your time comes."

"Why have you such a need for conquest?"

"My destiny is to conquer and rule the Freljord," she replied.

"Your destiny?" asked Ashe.

A sneer. "What, looking for something to use against me?"

"Mere curiosity. I apologize for prying."

There was no reply for a length of time. Then Sejuani said, "I had many siblings, once. The winters and famine took them all before my tenth birthday."

"That's terrible," Ashe said, frowning.

"It's the way of the world. I was sure I was going to die the same way. I went to my tribe's oracle, and he told me about my destiny."

"Ah," she said.

"And then I couldn't die," Sejuani said, a manic gleam in her eyes. "I couldn't die anymore, because there was something I had to do." She spat on the ground. "So try and use that against me, archer."

"Don't call me 'archer'," Ashe said. It sounded wrong coming from her.

"Hmph. So that's my story. What about you? What drives you and your peace?" The woman spat the last word like a curse.

The initial instinct was to refuse to tell her. But, what harm would it do? It was hardly a secret, and after she'd related her own history, it seemed unfair to not tell it.

"Nothing such as destiny," she said. "I watched as war stole so much away from me and everyone around me. When I saw a chance to end it, I took it."

"You're still angry about that girl, aren't you?" Sejuani asked abruptly, raising an eyebrow.

Ashe sighed. "She was – I cannot forgive, but I can… move on, more or less." What was one more scar on her spirit, anyhow?

"Move on? It doesn't boil your blood, push you to fight for retribution?" The question didn't seem to have malicious intent, rather, it sounded genuine.

"It does. I'm hardly perfect," she said. "There is little left dear to me, and many times I struggle. But if I wish to not ruin my own dream, I must move past injuries done to me."

Sejuani snorted. "I know people who'd say you have ice for blood, if they heard that."

"Let them, then," Ashe said, shrugging. Her expression was resigned. "My dream is all that is left for me, except…" She trailed off, sighing again.

"Except what?"

"Never mind that," she finished, shaking her head.

They stood in silence for a minute.

"Is our business concluded?" said the archer.

"Yes, it is. But we'll see each other again, pretender queen."

The insult didn't bite. "Perhaps we might be friends, one day," she said.

"Friends," Sejuani scoffed. "You are soft."

* * *

"Under different circumstances," said Ashe, "we may indeed have been friends."

"Sejuani?" Thresh asked.

She nodded.

"I take it your meeting went well?"

"Don't pretend you weren't spying on me," she said.

"I have no need to pretend," he said, holding a hand to his chest. "I would never stoop so low as to eavesdrop."

She rolled her eyes. "At any rate, the meeting did go better than I had expected, but my expectations were set extremely low."

"How low were your expectations?" he asked.

"Reasonable, I should think, with you involved."

"Please, archer," he scoffed. "We've been over this. I would not sabotage your diplomacy."

"In this case," she said, "there was precious little to sabotage."

"Even if that was my intention, what else could I have don't to provoke her?" he said. "What I did do was the furthest my capabilities stretched to anger her."

"Sejuani is an interesting person," said Ashe. "Still, I stand by what I said – we might have been good friends, had circumstances been different."

"Friendship is such a transient thing," Thresh said.

"But so is life, no?" she asked.

"Nearly everything is, for mortals."

She shrugged. "It's in the frame of reference, I suppose. For most, a good friendship is an enduring this."

"Then all the ones I've shattered were bad ones?" he said, amused.

"You are an out-of-context problem for most friendships," she declared. He seemed to consider that for a while.

"So, Ashe," he said eventually, "would then you consider me a – friend?"

Ashe frowned. "Do you jest?"

"I would never."

"Why do you ask, then?"

"I'm curious," Thresh said, grinning. "And you avoid the question. Should I take it as you do not know?"

She sniffed disdainfully to hide her unease. That was a train of thought she would prefer to avoid, to keep some semblance of sanity. "'Friends' is a two-way thing," she decided to say. "As I hardly think you consider me a friend, the point is moot."

"What are your criteria for being – ah – friends, then?" he said.

A distinct feeling of unease prickled at her. What was he trying to accomplish? "I suppose," she said, "friends are people who know and care for each other a great deal." She was less sure in her words than she'd liked to be. No one had ever made clear what the definition of a friend was supposed to be.

He stared at her silently, still smiling. She almost felt as if he was reading her thoughts, but that was a silly idea. She fixed her eyes on a blank spot on the wall.

When Ashe next looked at him, he had gotten much too close to her.

"Cute," said Thresh. "And typical. The kind of thing I tend to hear from ones who have no, ah, personal perspective on the concept."

She flinched, but held her ground, tilting her chin up defiantly. "I know very well the loneliness of my own life," she snarled. "You had asked for my definition."

"I did, didn't I?" He began to pace in circles around her, slowly, like a hunter stalking a deer. "I did."

"And you obviously found it to be inapplicable," she said.

"Shallow drivel, really."

"What is your point?" she asked, closing her eyes. "I know you don't feel kinship or any such thing. I know you are not my friend." That stung, a bit, thought she knew not why.

Ashe's lack of vision meant she was taken by surprise by the sudden force that flung her back into the wall. The impact knocked the air out of her lungs. She nearly slid to the floor, but cold metal lashed around her and pinned her still.

She opened her eyes to find Thresh not more than an inch from her, his empty, glowing eye sockets fixed on her own gaze.

"I do so hate beautiful things," he muttered. "There's something about them that I just… want to ruin." He brought his scythe up to her face, the point settling under her left eye, feather-light.

She held very still.

"Beautiful things shatter beautifully, too," he continued. The sharp point traced a path across her skin, lightly grazing her cheek stilling under her chin, not breaking the soft flesh there. "If one is careful, the pieces can be quite lovely as well."

"What are you insinuating?" she whispered. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead and neck.

"What a shame it would be," he said, "if your throat was slit in the night. Death is the only true legacy of mortals, and such waste… I would make it nice and slow. How prettily do you think you would shatter, Ashe?"

"I am not… some kind of art piece."

Thresh reached up and brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. The touch burned and chilled at the same time.

"Of course not," he said. "You are a living human. Who can suffer. Who can feel pain. Who can scream."

"You've likely caused me more strife of late than anything else," Ashe murmured.

He chuckled. "Thank you." His fingers trailed down her cheek, coming to a rest above her fluttering pulse.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, careful to not swallow.

"You were curious as to what you are to me, no?"

Her eyes drifted shut again. "If that is what you're trying to tell me," she said, "you are terrible at explanations."

"Truly, you wound me," he said. With a sudden movement, he shifted his scythe so the flat of the blade laid under her chin. She shivered, then went extremely still.

"Just tell me," Ashe whispered, the words barely audible.

"Haven't I made it clear? No one else is allowed to break you, to hurt that lovely soul of yours, but me. Don't you realize why, Ashe?"

Did she? If she didn't, did she want to know?"

"No," she whispered. "Why?"

"You are mine," said Thresh.

* * *

When it wasn't a necessity for survival, hunting was one of Ashe's favored pastimes. The attempt on her life the last time she'd gone out to do it had put her off for a while, but it was still an excellent way to clear her mind.

It also helped that spring was in full force, now. More animals were out and about.

Movement, out of the corner of her eye. A rabbit was nibbling on a few greet shoots. Careful to approach at an angle, she formed and drew an arrow. It wasn't a difficult shot –

Suddenly, the wind picked up, bringing with it flurries of snowflakes, despite the clear sky. The arrow flew wide, and the rabbit scampered off.

The whirls of white filled her vision, preventing sight of her surroundings. She lowered her bow. In front of her, a piece of ice shaped like a feather drifted to the ground, just inside her field of vision.

A voice echoed around her, as the wind and snow died down. "Hail, Frost Archer."

She turned and saw two blue lights – eyes – glowing amongst the snow. As the flurries settled, she saw the owner of the eyes was an enormous bird, taller than a human, but whose shape resembled no other avian she had ever seen. It was also composed entirely of crystalline, white-blue ice. Light glinted off feathers like icicles.

"I am sorry," said the creature. "Did I startle you?"

She shook her head mutely, unsettling flakes of snow that had settled on her hair. Something niggled at her – a bird, made entirely of ice, capable of speech, and the shape almost like a… phoenix –

"The guardian of the Freljord," she whispered, eyes wide.

"Indeed," it – she? The voice was female – said. "Though, I would prefer you call me Anivia."

Ashe dropped into a bow. "It is a great honor to be in your presence."

"The same for me, as well," Anivia said.

It took a moment for that to register. "Me? Excuse me, but I've hardly done anything that could possibly merit –"

"Are you not Ashe?" asked the Cryophoenix.

"Well, yes," she said. "How do you know of me?"

"I am the Freljord," was the response. "There is little I do not know, here."

"Of course. I apologize," she said. "What I meant to say was, to what do I owe the privilege of your presence, guardian?"

"You are the one who desires peace for the Freljord, correct?"

"Er, yes," said Ashe.

"Of late, I have sensed a great evil growing in the ice," Anivia told her. "While I cannot be sure what it is, I know it is old and powerful, and seeks to plunge us all into darkness."

An evil? She couldn't mean… Thresh, could she? "That sounds worrisome," she said warily, "but why do you tell me this?"

"A fair question." The bird dipped her head. "Any darkness that falls over the Freljord will affect me, as well. I cannot shoulder all responsibility, therefore, I seek allies."

"Allies?" Ashe blurted out. "Are you speaking of me?" That was – she couldn't wrap her head around the concept.

"Do not sell yourself short. You have a noble heart, and the will to shape the world."

She floundered for words.

"Also," Anivia continued, "there is something else. Are you familiar with my cycles of death and rebirth?"

"Vaguely?" There was something about the rebirth cycles of the guardian corresponding with new eras…

"It is nearly time for this one's end," she said. "I can feel it, and with this strange evil, I would be less anxious with someone to guard my egg."

"But – what –" Ashe closed her eyes and shook her head violently. "I – why would you entrust this to me? I'm hardly capable of protecting."

"Again, you sell yourself short," said Anivia. "Besides, there are precious few with the qualities you possess."

"I'm flattered, but – er, how can you be sure of these qualities? Have you been watching me?" And what if she had? Her heartbeat sped up.

"Of course not. I can simply see your heart."

Of all the things she once thought would get old quickly, people who could read her spirit had never been on the list. "I am honored by your praise," she said, "and if you wish to trust me with this ask, I will endeavor to fulfill it to the best of my ability. However…"

"You seem troubled," said the guardian.

Ashe nodded.

It was, honestly, a great honor to be asked this by the guardian of the Freljord, a mythical figure some believed to be just that – a figure of myth. There was no way she could refuse. But more than simply someone to perform a favor, it was clear she desired allies to stand against this darkness. That was, if too much experience with politics wasn't causing to overthink, but she believed that to not be the case.

But what if the evil was – was Thresh? He certainly fit the description, of an old evil that would be happy to see the Freljord fall into turmoil. However, they had an agreement. He would not intervene directly in the matters of the Freljord, so he was no threat to the Cryophoenix.

If she wanted her to take action, there was nothing to be done. Besides, a small part of her admitted, she wasn't sure she was capable of that, even if she wanted to.

"What is it?" Anivia asked.

"Am I correct in assuming you also want me to search for and fight this evil?" said Ashe.

"I would be grateful if you did so."

She sighed quietly. "I… do not think that is possible. I am simply too busy now to invest much in such an undertaking." She paused, then offered, "I will keep my eyes open for the threat, of course." Funny, how she felt more guilt at not regretting the lies than she did at the lies themselves.

Anivia might have looked disappointed, but it was difficult to tell. "I understand," she said. "Thank you, Frost Archer. I will be in contact."


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: New chapter, in which much is built up to but nothing actually happens. No royal screw-ups by Ashe, no sirree. That said, do her decisions seem mostly reasonable?**

 **It's getting harder to just bang out chapters. Less inspiration, like five tests in two days, other distractions, etc. Vacation is here, but… it's not giving me motivation to write. Sorry.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading, drop a review if you have a second. Why? They make me happy! :P Nah, don't if you don't want to, but they are appreciated.**

* * *

 **XII – Show me a path!**

The scroll was neatly rolled, made of good paper, and tied with a lovely gray ribbon. It sat innocently on her desk, not the slightest bit out of place – but for the fact that it hadn't been there a moment ago, and she hadn't noticed anyone deliver it.

Ashe untied and opened the scroll warily, glancing around the room. The first words she saw made her do a double-take.

 _To Thresh's lady friend –_

She flicked her gaze to the bottom of the letter, seeking a signature. She found one, but it explained little.

"Why is Elise writing to me?" she muttered.

Chains clinking –

"That damned spider again," Thresh said. "Let me read that."

"What," she said, "do you know what this is about?"

He was uncharacteristically silent. She turned back to the letter, concerned. Had he read something worrying?

 _First,_ the next lines read, _if I know Thresh at all, he is reading this, despite it clearly not being addressed to him, which is incredibly rude. I have written another letter to him. Have him read that instead._

She glanced up. Another scroll had somehow appeared on her desk, again without her notice.

"I detest that woman," he said, but still picked it up.

She continued reading.

 _Now, I'm afraid I am unaware of your name, as Thresh hasn't seen it fit to tell me. However, I might still introduce myself: I am Elise, a denizen of the Shadow Isles, known by some as the Spider Queen._

 _Having been acquainted with Thresh for quite some time, I find myself curious as to the person who has captured his attention for such a length of time. While I have heard many things about you, I feel hearsay to be far inferior to a meeting in person. As some of my business puts me in the vague vicinity of the Freljord, the convenient timing causes me to believe it would be optimal to pay you a visit._

 _Should this be acceptable, I will be in the Freljord in about a week. Do not concern yourself with providing directions; I am capable of finding my own way. You may send any response by the same method in which my message arrived._

 _I look forward to making your acquaintance._

 _Regards, Elise_

"What was Evelynn doing in northern Ionia in the first place?" Thresh muttered.

"Hm?" She looked up.

He gestured with the scroll he was holding. "The letter," he said.

"What does it say?" Ashe asked.

"What does yours say?" he countered, flashing a grin.

She debated keeping the contents secret, but in the end, it was hardly worthwhile. "Elise will be visiting soon," she said.

His expression grew thunderous. "What."

"I take it she didn't mention that to you?"

"No, she did not," he bit out. "She wrote something about how Evelynn ran into some hunters while in Ionia, so she was going to help and then flee the area. And that I should be more careful about my actions, and some other unimportant things."

"Oh, so that was her meaning when she mentioned she had business," she said.

"Explain?" said Thresh.

She shrugged. "There was little detail. Simply that she would be near here – I suppose northern Ionia would count – and that she'd visit."

He leaned against the wall, emitting an aggrieved sigh.

"Though, she did mention I should reply to say if I found that acceptable," Ashe realized. "What method did –"

A light weight landed on her shoulder. A weight that balanced on points, that moved. She turned her head slowly, dread rising.

She recoiled out of her chair with a squeak, brushing off the far-too-large spider. The creature chittered indignantly.

"Are you arachnophobic, archer?" Thresh asked.

She growled incoherently. "Is this – of course this is what delivered the messages. And I hadn't noticed it in my room," she said, scowling at the arachnid.

The subject of her ire performed a strange almost-dance and chittered again. IT was mocking her, she could tell. She growled and struck at it, but it skittered out of her reach.

"If you kill it, you can't send a message telling that woman to stay well away," he said.

"What?" Ashe blinked, ceasing her efforts. The spider took that as a sign to climb back onto her shoulder. "Elise? You don't want her to visit?"

He snorted. "I'd rather spend a day with Karthus in a graveyard."

"Well, then," she said, smiling sweetly. "I'll be sure to write that she's welcome to come and stay as long as she wishes."

Thresh glared at her. She ignored him, instead finding a blank piece of parchment and a pen to write with.

The spider tugged at her hair. She made a mental note to take at least two baths later.

After a few moments of silence, she sighed and set down her writing utensil.

"Look," Ashe said, "if you truly hate her so much, I will turn her down. But I do want a chance to meet her, honestly."

"I don't… it's not that I hate her that much," he said slowly. "At least, it's mostly not. Her personality simply grates on me. She seems to have little sense of – boundaries, in my regard."

"You feel she intrudes on your personal issues?" she guessed.

"Correct," Thresh said.

Wait. Did that meant she herself was personal – she shook her head.

The spider made a chirping noise and scampered over to the beginnings of her reply, stomping on it. She cracked a bemused smile.

"You probably would get along with her," he muttered, sighing. "Oh, very well. Invite Elise."

Ashe's beamed. This time, it was genuine.

"I fear I will come to regret this greatly," he said.

* * *

The Frostguard's place of residence was lovely in its own right, though it was quite different from the Avarosan's. This place was all sharp angles and efficient construction, in contrast to her home's more haphazard, organic feel.

The overall effect, however, was rather changed by the behavior of the people.

"Your tribe seems a bit reclusive," Ashe commented. That was an understatement. No one had attempted to talk to her. No one even paused in their tasks to gawk. Was her own tribe's behavior so unusual?

"I suppose so," said Lissandra. "I apologize, does it bother you?"

"No, it was simply an observation. I thank you for your invitation to dine," she said.

"I find such things to be enjoyable, as well as productive. Keeping friends close, and all that."

Ashe did a double-take. "Friends?"

"Perhaps I was too forward," Lissandra said. "I haven't had many chances to create relationships –"

"No, not at all." The archer waved a hand. "I'm flattered, really. Friends are wonderful things."

For that, she got a smile.

"I'm afraid the food won't be ready for some time yet, though," said the other woman. "I was hoping we could simply… talk, for a while?"

"Was there anything in particular you wish to say?" Ashe asked.

"Nothing in particular." A pause. "Er, you had mentioned you were familiar with the old legends?"

"More so than most," she replied.

"Would you mind telling me where you learned of them?" Lissandra said. "The tales are more difficult to learn of, these days, and I am intrigued."

"Yes, they seem to have fallen out of common knowledge," Ashe said. "But I think my tribe in particular preserved more of them, and I myself was always fascinated by them as a child."

"Interesting."

Hm. Speaking of legends – perhaps she could discuss Anivia with her? No matter the guardian's words, she still felt a sense of insecurity, almost.

It might be a bad idea, but… Lissandra had shown herself to be a kind and understanding person, overall, not to mention the entire purpose of the Frostguard was to protect the Freljord. Who else could she talk about it with? Telling Thresh would be… an awful idea, all things considered, if she listened to her logic instead of her emotions.

"Is something troubling you?" Lissandra asked.

She nodded slowly. "If I've judged correctly, you also know much about such legends, no?"

"I… find them strangely relevant to me, on occasion."

"Are you familiar with the stories about the Freljord's guardian?" Ashe said.

"Yes, I am," Lissandra replied, her eyes narrowing. "What of them?"

"I actually – I've found them to be more than mere stories."

"What are you implying?"

"I met the guardian," Ashe said.

Lissandra's jaw dropped, before she raised a hand to cover her mouth. "You did?" she whispered.

"Yes, I did. It was interesting, to say the least."

"Might – might I ask what you spoke about?"

While part of her balked at disclosing what Anivia had said – the evil the guardian mentioned might not be Thresh, and this was the leader of the tribe tasked with guarding against dark creatures. Besides, a part of her said, if Thresh did act in a way that endangered the Freljord, she… really couldn't trust herself to stop him.

And Lissandra was a sort of friend, after all. There was hardly anyone better to tell, no?

"The guardian spoke of something worrying," Ashe said, her face revealing none of her conflicting thoughts. "An old, powerful evil, that seeks to plunge the Freljord into darkness."

Lissandra's eyes widened briefly. Then she frowned, saying, "Did she mention what it is, exactly?"

"No. She was not sure of its nature."

The woman's expression became unreadable. "That sounds worrisome," she said. "Is there perchance something I could do, to lend my aid?"

Her first response was no, there was not. But there was the issue with Anivia's egg, wasn't there? More security, so to speak, would not go astray.

"Perhaps there is," Ashe said slowly. "You seem to know much about the legends. Do you know of the guardian's cycles of birth, death, and rebirth?"

"I do," said Lissandra. She wore an odd expression, one that she couldn't place.

"Soon, she will die, and be reborn as an egg," she explained. "Because of this unknown evil, she… requested me to watch over the egg until she hatches again."

"Quite the honor."

"Indeed," Ashe agreed. "Almost too great an honor. If you spoke frankly when you offered your aid, I would be glad to accept it."

"Of course. Truthfully," Lissandra said, "the guardian of the Freljord is a being I have always been –" here she paused, " – intrigued by." She smiled. "It would be my pleasure to help. In fact, if you would have me, I believe I myself will go with the party tasked with guarding her egg."

"Such altruism, to go yourself. Are you sure you have no, ah, ulterior motives?" Ashe teased.

The woman flinched, taken aback.

A surge of guilt rushed through her. "I am so sorry, I didn't mean to imply – I simply believed you wished to meet the guardian – I – I was jesting –" the archer stuttered.

"No, no." Lissandra shook her head. "I took it badly. But I suppose you do hit on a truth. I do not deny I would love to meet the guardian."

"Quite natural, I should think," she said.

* * *

It snowed, that night.

Black clouds darkened the sky all the way to the horizon, casting grasping shadows across the tundra. The snow, almost ice, came down in torrents, great sheets of it falling as though from an avalanche in the sky.

Ashe could barely read her paperwork in the shifting gloom. A sudden, blinding flash of lightning illuminated the room, throwing everything into stark relief. Two seconds later, a deafening crack split through the air, the sound slowly trailing off. She threaded her hands through her hair and sighed.

"Lovely weather you're having," said Thresh. "I can see why you choose to live here."

She frowned. "Now that you mention it," she said, "it really shouldn't be snowing."

"Oh?"

"The time of year is wrong, especially for a storm like this," she explained. "Perhaps it is an omen, of sorts…"

"Worried, archer?" he said.

Ashe sighed, drumming her fingers on her desk. The sound was drowned out by a howling gust of wind that caused something to creak ominously.

"It matters little," she said. "If it is indeed an omen, it does not tell me what it warns of. I cannot fixate on a danger I know nothing about."

Thresh peered over her shoulder, at the document she was attempting to read. "So, you're instead thinking up names for this town you live in?"

"Is that what it says?" She sighed again, rubbing her eyes. "Honestly. Haven't they already been calling it what, Rakelstake, for years now?" She wrote down a note.

Another flash of lightning lit the sky.

"Not worried at all?" he asked, once the rumble of thunder had died down. "While I'm no expert on your weather patterns, I'd believed lighting during a snowstorm to be somewhat unusual."

Ashe bit her lip. "I am somewhat worried," she said. "But it's not the storm – the business with Anivia is what's bothering me, even having talked with Lissandra –"

"The business with Anivia?" Thresh repeated softly.

"Yes, I –" She paled, suddenly realizing what she'd just said. "Oh. That. You don't know about it." What had she been thinking? She'd resolved to not tell him!

"I don't. Why don't you enlighten me?" he said.

She shook her head frantically. "I don't – I'm sorry, I can't tell you."

"Why ever not?"

Because letting him know about Anivia, and what Anivia might know of him just screamed "terrible idea"? Because the guardian had chosen to tell her in confidence, to make herself vulnerable, because she thought Ashe to be a good person? And if all went well, nothing would involve him anyway.

"Telling you the reason would be akin to telling you the thing itself," she said.

"So you won't tell me?" he said. "I'm hurt. Didn't you say you had told that Lissandra woman?"

"That – she –" She shook her head, resisting the urge to "it's different". "That is irrelevant. This does not concern you."

A grin split Thresh's face. "No?" he said. "There is no way I could, ah, convince you to divulge this information?"

"… No," she said, frowning.

"Are you certain?" he asked. "I can be rather persuasive."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm sure you can be. But you can know after all relevant events have come to pass."


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N: The first half or so of this was like pulling teeth. That plus a weekend of URF, plus being forcibly 'volunteered' at a lab, means this was so. So. Late.**

 **Unfortunately, I have a bit of bad news. After the chapter after this one (which might not be on time either), I'm gonna need a break to plan and brainstorm what I want to happen. I'll probably drop this for a while, maybe write some oneshots. Speaking of oneshots, I wrote one. It's on my profile, of course. Go read it? :P**

 **Really talky chapter today, but next one will have more action, I swear. As always, thank you for reading this, and for your patience. Drop a review or something if you have a moment to spare?**

* * *

 **XIII – Oh, yes! It's about to get much worse.**

"That woman is hiding something," Thresh announced.

Ashe sighed. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific. Which woman? Sejuani? Elise?"

"That friend of yours," he hissed. "Lissandra."

"Oh dear. What have you done now?" she said.

"Worried? How cute," he said. "Don't be. No one noticed me."

She fixed him with a flat stare.

Thresh made a dismissive noise. "I merely observed. I would hardly do something to bring an army to your doorstep."

"Of course not," she said, rolling her eyes. "At any rate, what do you mean by 'hiding something'?"

"She… is not quite what she seems."

"Oh?" Ashe raised an eyebrow.

"For what she claims to be, her soul is – off. Not right," he replied. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

"You're being awfully vague," she said, with a frown. "What do you expect out of me by revealing this? To cut off my relationships with her?"

"Not at all," Thresh said, unfazed.

"She is a kind person and a good friend. There's no reason –" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "Everyone has things to hide. I haven't a leg to stand on to judge anyone else on the basis of 'hiding something'." She looked at him pointedly.

He grinned. "Of course not. Besides, you trust her, no? To tell you if it's truly important?"

Something wasn't right, here.

"You're not telling me everything," said Ashe.

"Perhaps I am not."

Her eyes narrowed. "The last time this occurred, the information being withheld led to people dying."

"You want to know, then?" he asked.

"Yes, of course I do."

He stared at her silently. What was he –

The irony hit her. It must have shown in her expression, because he began to laugh.

"I almost feel a sense of déjà vu," Thresh said. "Hm, what could it be?"

She scowled. "If people – this ceases to be a game when people are in danger!" she growled.

"Is that so?" he said softly, suddenly serious. "Does it? Mortals… they all die in the end, no?"

She did not need to hear this right now. "Is this your attempt at convincing me to tell you the – the thing I hadn't wanted to tell you?" Ashe asked.

"I don't know. Is it?"

Wait a moment.

"You haven't even confirmed if this – whatever this is you're not telling me is dangerous or not," she realized.

"Indeed. You came to that conclusion on your own," Thresh said, seeming amused.

She stood up and began to pace. "I am under no obligation to tell you anything," she mused. "But, neither are you obligated to tell me anything." Besides, she really should trust Lissandra, shouldn't she?

"Of course," he agreed.

Ashe shook her head in a futile attempt to clear it. Obligated or not, she still wanted to know what it was that he was keeping to himself. There was also an urge to tell him about the mess with Anivia, logic be damned, accompanied by a surge of emotion she was unaccustomed to feeling, one that left a bitter taste in her mouth. Guilt. Which made little sense.

But, after the guardian once again hatched from her egg, their association would be more or less over. At that point, it would probably be fine to tell him.

"I still cannot tell you anything yet," she said. "But – soon."

"How considerate of you," Thresh said.

She rolled her eyes.

* * *

Two seconds. Ashe let her attention lapse for two seconds, and suddenly there were spiders everywhere. They were on the floor, the walls, the ceiling, and all the furniture. The entire room was covered in black chitin.

She blinked once, twice, then mechanically rubbed her eyes.

"Please tell me I'm having a nightmare," she said.

"Unfortunately," Thresh muttered, "I cannot."

"Come now, I'd almost think you were unhappy to see me."

The words came from a woman who had definitely not been there a moment ago. She had red hair, and was wearing something like a corset, except more revealing, but her most obvious feature was the spiderlike appendages extending from her back.

"That would be because I am unhappy to see you, Elise."

Elise sniffed, folding her arms. "This was planned to be a surprise for you. Though, I'm not at all shocked you read the other letter. Some days, I feel you wouldn't know manners if they hit you upside the head."

"I did not read it," Thresh growled. "The – ah – intended recipient informed me of your visit."

The spider woman seemed to notice Ashe for the first time. "Oh! Forgive my rudeness," she said, smiling. "What might your name be?"

"My name is Ashe," the archer said, then glanced around. Thresh had vanished as soon as he was no longer the subject of attention.

"I'm sure you already know who I am, but allow me to introduce myself. I am Elise." The woman held out a hand.

Ashe shook it automatically. Wait, were those – those fingers tapered into sharp, red claws. She let go of the handshake a bit more quickly than was polite.

She scrambled for something to say, to cover her faux pas. "Er – I hope your journey was safe and pleasant?" she said. "You mentioned, in your letter, that you were going to help your friend? Is she alright? Where is she?"

"Oh, Evelynn is fine, and she is around, thank you," Elise said. "Though she failed to get the tea… and I ran into few issues along the way."

Ashe cast a glance at the swarm of spiders – which was still covering everything – then at the strange appendages, like the limbs of a spider, sprouting from the woman's back. "Excuse me," she said, "but may I ask how you got here without being subject to some… questions?"

"I can be perfectly subtle." With no fanfare at all, Elise was suddenly a normal, if rather striking, woman, and her swarm vanished.

She blinked. "I see."

Elise's appearance flickered, then reverted to normal, with the spiders also reappearing. "Anyhow," she said, "I am pleased to finally meet you, Ashe. I've heard interesting things about you."

"The same to you," Ashe replied. "How did you hear of me?"

"The same way you learned of me, I should think."

Naturally. She smiled and clasped her hands together, absentmindedly noticing her palms were sweating.

"Hm. You have lovely hair," Elise said, abruptly. "Would you permit me to braid it?"

What? Her hair? Ashe took a while to register the non sequitur. "I don't see why not," she said after a moment, sitting down.

Elise moved to stand behind her seat. "Now," she said, "I must confess to some curiosity. How did you come to meet Thresh?" Deft fingers separates her hair into parts, working out the tangles.

"Do you mean why he came to be in the Freljord?"

"No, not that," was the reply. "I suppose… allow me to be blunt. I have never heard him speak of anyone in the manner he does of you."

That was a worryingly vague statement. "I do not know his mind," Ashe said slowly, "nor do I think I want to. I do not know why –"

"Understandable, but that was not what I meant to ask," said Elise. "Simply put – who are you?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but then felt an odd sensation on her head. Almost like something crawling…

"Are their spiders in my hair?" she asked, focusing on keeping her breathing even.

"Spiderlings."

"What?"

"My children are called spiderlings."

Ashe processed the words, then decided to forget the past few seconds of conversation. "Of course," she said. "What was your question, again?"

"I asked, who are you?" Elise repeated.

Many-legged movement in her hair. She resisted the urge to scratch, and the urge to break out in screams and flee somewhere far away. That would be… rude. Yes.

Instead, she responded, "Well, I – I am Ashe. I am sixteen years of age, and I lead my tribe, the Avarosan. My dream – no, I will one day unite the Freljord, and lead it into an era of peace."

"Hm. Better, but still not quite what I was asking. That is what you are. I asked who you are."

She blinked in confusion. "Then I am sorry, but I don't understand what you mean."

Elise paused for a moment. "Well, then. Let me think… tell me, how would you like to die?"

What? "How I'd – how I want to die?"

"Yes. Ideally, how?"

Well, the natural answer would be of old age, in sleep, no? But when she tried to voice that, the words felt wrong. "I'm… not sure."

"The fact that your immediate answer is not 'of old age, peacefully, surrounded by loved ones' is telling," said Elise.

Ashe struggled to find words to explain it. "It just – it seems like such a, I don't know, meek end," she said. "Like – my death wouldn't accomplish anything? I can't express it clearly. I've seen so many people die uselessly."

And the idea of her death, by any means, scared her a bit. If she died, that would be the end. She would be leaving everything behind, just like –

"Is that so?"

"I would prefer to not speak of it," she muttered.

"I apologize. I should not have pressed," Elise said.

She shook her head. The motion jostled her hair, making her acutely aware of an almost liquid feeling in the strands. "What is –" she began.

"Silk."

"Oh. Is that… necessary?"

"Of course."

"Anyhow," Ashe said, "what about you? You call the Shadow Isles your home, yet you don't seem to be undead." The topic change was heavy-handed, but she wanted to move on.

"I am not," Elise confirmed.

"So…" she prompted, after some time passed with no further clarification.

"I was human, once."

"But you are not anymore?" Ashe asked.

"No," said Elise. "As a human, I had always been rather… apathetic, is the best word. I was the daughter of a minor noble, destined for some political marriage, with nothing to look forward to. I found nothing particularly interesting or exciting. I went through the motions without finding anything that truly mattered, to me."

"What changed?" Ashe said.

"What gives you the impression that something changed?" The woman's voice was amused.

"Quite evidently, something did."

Elise giggled. It was an unnerving sound, though for a different reason than Thresh's laughter – it sounded almost normal, but with something just slightly off. Or perhaps that was the spiderlings laughing along with her, in a cacophony of scrapes and screeches.

"Yes, something did… change," she said. "I paid a visit to the Shadow Isles, along with a companion. I do not recall why, anymore, but it matters not. The Isles – the moment I arrived, they called to me. My friend found the place unnerving, even repulsive, but I could see past that. I felt drawn to stay. The Isles wanted me." She sounded nearly wistful in her recollections.

"What are the Shadow Isles like?" Ashe said. "I will most likely never go there myself. Would you describe them for me?" What was this place that she and Thresh and so many other creatures of nightmare called home?

"If you desire an impartial description, I am not the best person to ask," Elise told her. "But I find them beautiful. Most of the Isles is forested, but the trees are unlike any other, ghostly, and so is the rest of the flora. The Black Mist blocks much of the sunlight, casting a perpetual twilight over the place. It is quite lovely. My words cannot do it justice."

It was difficult to imagine. Ashe had never before set foot outside the Freljord, barring her recent trip to Bilgewater, let alone seen forests.

"But I digress. Would you care to hear the rest of my story?"

"If you don't mind overmuch."

"I do not." Elise's fingers twisted the newly created braid on her head, forming loops. "Where was I… yes. My companion was growing increasingly restless, but I insisted we press on. And then I heard the spider's song."

Ashe frowned. Spiders were incapable of singing, weren't they? Was she being metaphorical? "The spider's song?" she asked.

"The song of the spider god." It wasn't visible, but she could swear Elise was smiling.

"Is this spider god the reason you are… as you are now?"

"Indeed," she replied. "My god's venom is what rids me of my mortality and grants me my power." She looked around the room. "You don't have any hairpins, do you? I suppose I must make do."

"Immortality and power? That seems to be an awfully good deal," Ashe said.

"It is. The occasional necessary human sacrifices are hardly a significant price."

She froze. "Human sacrifices?"

"Oh, yes. My companion was the first, but they aren't so difficult to obtain," said Elise. "A simple offer of religious –"

"How could you?" Ashe whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"Human sacrifices – how could you possible –"

"They are in a better place now," Elise said. Her voice had taken on an odd echo. "I have taken them all to a better place. Do you presume to judge my actions? It is no one's place but my god's to judge me!"

Ashe winced at the sharp tug on her hair that punctuated the last statement. "I'm sorry," she said, "I spoke badly." And she really had no room to judge, given what she herself had been privy to in the name of her own beliefs, given all the people she had hurt.

If nothing else, Elise clearly believed in this god of hers, even if she did have other motives. The idea of immortality and power would drive anyone to questionable actions, after all – everyone was selfish to some degree. No room to judge.

"I understand. Apology accepted," Elise said. The echoing quality to her voice was gone. "You are human, so it would be a natural reaction."

"Judging isn't something I should be able to do," Ashe muttered. "I – my own ethical code and such has been rather skewed for a while."

"Hm. Am I correct in assuming that Thresh –"

"Yes," she mumbled, cutting off that sentence.

"…do you regret that? Do you hate him for it?" Elise asked.

"I… want to," said Ashe, quietly, "but I don't believe I can."

A minute or so passed in silence, apart from the noises of the swarm of spiderlings she'd almost managed to forget about.

"There," Elise announced. "Finished." She took a few steps to stand in front of Ashe, eyeing her critically. "You look lovely."

"Er, thank you," she replied. She then picked up a hand mirror off her desk, the spiderling sitting on it scuttling away, and held it up to see her reflection.

It was impossible to see everything, what with not being able to see the back of her head, but what she could see was impressive. Her hair was tucked neatly into what seemed to be a single white braid, threaded through with silk. The braid was coiled on the back of her head, deliberately slightly off-center, into a rose-like shape. The whole thing was held together by what looked to be – were those spider legs – performing the function of hairpins.

She decided to not comment on that last fact.

"Thank you," Ashe said.

"No need to thank me," Elise said. "But perhaps there is someone to whom you want to show that?"

She blinked uncomprehendingly, before it hit her and she looked away, cheeks pink. "That – no –"

"Teasing. Both of you could do with some of it." The woman waved a hand. "But, I must be going now. I shall be around for a while still, however. Your people seem… nice."

"So long as you don't steal any of them to the Shadow Isles to sacrifice," Ashe said, a playful smile on her face.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

It was a bit disconcerting how quickly Thresh showed up after Elise's departure.

"Are you finally –" he began, then stopped upon seeing her.

"Finally what?" Ashe asked, keeping her expression as innocent as possible.

"Your hair," he said, after a moment of seeming lost for words. "What."

"Do you not like it?" She feigned a hurt expression.

"No, I – it's –" Thresh held a hand to his head, muttering something indiscernible. "It's nice," he said, at last.

"Thank you," she replied. "Actually, I had been considering cutting my hair, as it was becoming too long to be manageable, but I think I'll be keeping it like this from now on."

"I take it you had fun, then?" he said. "You seem to be in high spirits."

Ashe sobered slightly. "Elise is interesting. I suppose I can see why you might find her annoying, and while she's hardly a paragon of virtue –"

"The human sacrifices?" Thresh said.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you… yes, the human sacrifices. Regardless, I do like her. Her story is quite fascinating."

"I vaguely remember her as a human," he said. "I saw her once when she was human. I meant to watch her and her friend for a while before pointing Yorick in her general direction, but then she found the spider."

"The spider god?"

"Mm. That is what she calls it, yes. Its name is Vilemaw, I think."

Ashe took a moment to digest that information.

"Thresh," she said eventually, "what is your story? How did you come to be as you are?"

He sighed. "That is something I prefer not to discuss, at least not now. My past is my own business."

"Ah."

"Though, I might tell you soon." Thresh grinned at her.

She frowned, giving him an unimpressed look, but a tiny smile found its way onto her lips.


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N: Finally, got this done. I'm not that confident about this chapter, but meh. Hey, remember when I said I'd take a break after this one? Well, that was a lie. This didn't cover all the events I wanted it to, so you guys get another chapter before my break.**

 **So I googled a map of Runeterra and realized it made no sense. How the heck does the Harrowing work if Bilgewater is on the opposite side of the map from the Shadow Isles? I'm ignoring it. Like the rest of the lore that doesn't fit this.  
**

 **Thanks for reading.**

* * *

 **XIV – Reveal what is hidden.**

While Ashe knew that her life had been far less strange not so long ago, she sometimes found said time difficult to recall.

She'd decided to go for a walk, to see how the Freljord's spring was slowly becoming summer, how the layers of frost were thinning and the sun creeping upward in the sky. Almost before she was out of sight of Rakelstake, the wind picked up and the temperature dropped. Flakes of snow condensed into icy whirls. She looked up. The sky was cloudless.

Blue eyes glowed in the storm. "Frost Archer," Anivia greeted.

She bowed. "Guardian. I am honored by your presence."

The whirlwind of snow lost cohesion, dissipating and fluttering to the ground.

"There is little time for pleasantries, I am afraid," said the Cryophoenix. "It is time."

Her eyes widened. "It is? Now?"

"I can feed it," Anivia said, inclining her head. "I am so… tired, and weak, right now." She sighed. "Will you watch over me through the end of this cycle, Frost Archer?"

"Of course I will," Ashe said. "I will do my utmost to ensure no harm comes to you."

"Thank you."

Anivia's eyes drifted shut, and she folded her wings to come to a rest on the ground. The aura of cold and power ever-present around her seemed to slowly fade.

Ashe took a few steps backward. This was – she couldn't shake the feeling that this was something almost sacred, and that she was an intruder. She was here with permission, she reminded herself, and with intentions to help, but it didn't dispel the feeling.

The sense of otherness to Anivia was gone now, and had she not known better, she might have mistaken her for a remarkably detailed ice sculpture of a bird.

Then she shattered.

Ashe instinctively dove away, covering her face and upper body with her arms. It proved unnecessary, though, as none of the ice shards came close to touching her. She discovered this fact after a moment had passed without her flesh being rent by ice.

She lowered her arms and picked herself off the ground, wincing. Diving onto the ground was, in general, a painful idea.

Where Anivia had been now sat a white egg surrounded by a shatter-pattern of slightly glowing shards of ice. She took a few cautious steps toward it. When no thunder struck her and no sudden snowstorm swept her off her feet, she cautiously reached out a hand to touch it.

The egg was as cold and white as freshly fallen snow. She gathered it in her arms carefully. It was as large as her head, and seemed durable enough, but she didn't want to risk dropping it.

She needed to take it to her tribe and set up a guard. The thought shook her out of her reverie.

"At least I should have no shortage of volunteers," she muttered to herself.

* * *

"My Queen, Lissandra and her contingent have arrived."

"Thank you," said Ashe. What was this man's name again? It was slipping her memory. Ah, well. "Inform her I shall be out to meet them shortly."

The man bowed before heading outside. The deference she was paid still came as a surprise, sometimes.

She gave the room a quick survey. The place was as secure as she could make it on short notice, having sturdy walls, only one door, and no windows. Anivia's egg had been placed into a reinforced chest, which was padlocked and sat in the back of the room. Around it, four guards stood vigil.

Ashe exited, beckoning the stationed guards to follow. It was due time for a shift change, anyhow. Lissandra could have the next watch.

Speaking of Lissandra, the woman was standing outside with a respectable entourage – about ten men and women, all lightly armed and armored. Upon noticing the archer, she turned and started toward her.

"It is good to see you again, Lissandra," said Ashe, smiling.

"Likewise," Lissandra replied, with a glance in the direction she'd come from. "Is this – is it true?"

Further clarification was unnecessary, it was obvious what she meant. "Of course. I would hardly lie about something as important as this."

The woman nodded, a pensive expression clouding her features. "Might I enter?" she said.

"It is the reason for your presence," Ashe said. "You've arrived between shifts, so you might as well take over the next shift, if that's alright. I believe I shall take the chance to get some fresh air."

Lissandra nodded again, this time more decisively. She and her tribesmen headed off.

Ashe took a moment to breathe deeply, letting several second pass before letting go of the breath. She rubbed her eyes. There hadn't been many chances to relax, lately.

Her brief reprieve was broken by a sharp crack and shout of pain from behind her.

She whipped around, searching for the source of the noise. A man – the same man who had informed her of Lissandra's arrival – had apparently fallen. His eyes were wide and unfocused, and he was clutching at his leg. A leg which, she saw, had an unnatural bend in its lower section, and white bone jutting out from the skin.

It was difficult to restrain herself to a brisk walk, instead of a sprint, but Ashe managed. The expectation was that she always remain dignified, and image was important, no matter how silly she thought it to be. Besides, a crowd was already gathering, and she didn't want to run over anyone.

Oh, who was she kidding, that wasn't an issue. The people parted before her like ocean waves before the bow of a ship.

"What has happened?" she asked, keeping her voice level.

A bit too late, she noted the man's uneven breathing and lack of response to her presence. Shock, wonderful. She'd just made a fool of herself, hadn't she.

Fortunately, a bystander answered in his stead. "Axel fell, my queen," said a woman. Ah, so that was his name. "He tripped on something – it was strange, like his foot was stuck."

She frowned. It would be difficult to break a leg due to simply tripping, true, but what could cause a foot to become stuck randomly? This didn't sit well with her.

Ashe crouched beside the downed man, who was still unresponsive to her actions. Something wasn't right – and then she was it.

The man's foot, the one attached to the broken leg, was adhered to the ground by ice. It was nearly unnoticeable, as said ice was dark and reflected little light, and if nothing else, that fact contributed to the wrongness of the situation.

Before she could point it out to anyone, a voice hissed in her ear. "Archer. Check on Lissandra." Thresh?

She glanced around surreptitiously. Thresh wasn't visible. Of course he wasn't, there would be an obvious reaction if he was. But that still left the question –

"Must I repeat myself?" He sounded annoyed, but the annoyance held a further edge she'd not heard before. "Go check on your friend. This is not a request. You can thank me later."

Ashe stood, trying and failing to dam the rising tide of anxiety in her chest. "Find Axel medical assistance," she ordered distractedly. "Something has just come up, and I must take care of it."

She didn't elaborate, but few paid her mind, as focused as they were on Axel's injury. She headed off in Lissandra's direction. What was so important that Thresh would interrupt her in the company of others?

The egg. No. Worst-case scenarios raced through her mind.

She didn't run, but it was a near thing.

* * *

The moment Ashe stepped into the room, Lissandra's guards rushed out past her. It might have been with good cause. But the same reason she knew it was not was also why she froze in the doorway, standing stock-still.

The chest that had contained the egg was wide open, its lock shattered and its contents nowhere to be seen. And they'd been holding something.

She only remained frozen for a bare few seconds, but a few seconds was too long. As she turned to run outside, the door slammed shut.

Her next few realizations came in stutters.

Lissandra was standing between her and the exit.

Lissandra's guards had stolen Anivia's egg.

Lissandra herself was smirking. It was a vicious, cold thing, the likes of which she'd never seen before.

And finally – she was a fool, wasn't she?

Her hands reached for the bow on her back. "Lissandra, what is the meaning of this?" she asked. The circumstances made it obvious, of course, but there was still the vain hope that this was all a misunderstanding.

Lissandra laughed. It was nothing like the times she'd laughed before, light and tinkling like bells. This was dark and carried the echoes of something ancient and terrible.

Suddenly, Lissandra thrust a hand behind her, in the direction of the door. Dark ice – like the ice that had caused Axel's fall, she realized – growing in a twisted parody of anything natural to encase the door and a good part of the wall.

She'd just… sealed the exit. The implications – no, focus. Don't think about it yet.

The bow was ready in her hands, now. Ashe raised it to point at Lissandra. Her fingers shook, but her aim was steady.

"Why do you insist on acting surprised?" Lissandra said. "Did you think I'd changed so much sister? Or that it wasn't me? You always were naïve, but I hadn't thought you to be that naïve."

What? She seemed to expect Ashe to react to react to that, but what exactly was she… had she called her sister? It didn't matter, anyhow. This was a waste of precious time.

Her resolve firmed, and she let fly a volley of arrows.

Lissandra's eyes grew wide, evidently taken by surprise, and she ducked with unnatural speed, but an arrow or two still clipped her. Then her appearance flickered and warped, the colors twisting and draining away. An illusion?

And then, where had stood a human woman was now a thing of dark ice, whose shape was nothing more than a mockery of human form. In place of legs, there was a shifting mass of icicles. A long white braid trailed down her back, the only thing suggesting at humanity.

She recoiled, old stories of the Ice Witch and her cruelty running through her head.

"You look so shocked," said Lissandra. Was this even still Lissandra? Her voice had changed, gaining a lilting quality and an accent she couldn't place.

"What is this?" Ashe breathed. She clenched her bow tighter, knuckles going white.

Lissandra sneered. A visor of ice covered the top half of her face, but the bare skin visible was a pale blue. "Does my form disgust you, dear sister? Always clinging to your precious humanity. It's hardly a price to pay for this power."

Funny, hadn't Elise said something similar? No, she had to concentrate right now.

"Why do you call me sister?" Ashe said. "I hold no relation to you."

"Cease this charade!" Lissandra snarled. "Do you take me for a fool, Avarosa? Did you think me incapable of recognizing you in a new form, after all these years? Silly child."

She thought her to be Avarosa? She'd think about the implications later, but how was that – the name. Lissandra. The tales of the Ice Witch. And she wasn't mortal, was she? It clicked.

"You are the Ice Witch," Ashe whispered, "and you are Lissandra. The original one, the eldest sister. The one who sided with the Watchers."

"What, who did you think me to be?"

"But you – the Frostguard –" She shook her head. That wasn't the important thing right now. "What do you want with the guardian's egg?"

"Oh, you haven't yet realized?" said Lissandra, her smirk returning. "I suppose I can afford to enlighten you, all things considered. Your precious guardian is linked to the Freljord, you know. Should the Freljord fall to darkness, she too would be corrupted. But should she herself be corrupted, say, by someone's magic…"

"No," Ashe whispered, her blood going cold.

"Of course, she'd normally be more than capable of defending herself. How fortunate it is, then, that I should chance upon her at her most vulnerable."

She flinched. Most vulnerable. Anivia had entrusted her with her safety, and this was what had come of this. She had to fix it. Could she?

Another volley of arrows formed on her bow.

"You think to stop me?" said Lissandra. She made no move to defend herself. "Nothing will stop the return of the Watchers, sister."

The arrows flew.

A wall of dark ice rose from the ground, halting their flight prematurely. The wall then shattered into dozens of shards, which flung themselves toward her.

Ashe cursed and attempted to duck behind the chest, to at least have some cover. She wasn't quite fast enough. The shards clipper her side and arm, drawing gashes. Blood welled up.

"Is that all?" Lissandra sneered. "If only more could witness how pathetic their Queen Avarosa truly is. Hmph… all this time and you still cling to that title. Honestly. I've killed so many queens I've lost count!" She advanced, the ice that formed her lower half shifting.

Ashe staggered, righting herself. The wounds were debilitating, yes, but she could still move and draw her bow. She could fight.

Perhaps luckily, she never got the chance to test the truth of that assertion.

The temperature of the already frigid room suddenly dropped another few degrees. That was all the warning Lissandra received before chains appeared from nowhere and slammed her into the ground.

"Really, archer," Thresh said conversationally, "I leave you alone for five minutes and this is what you get up to."

She'd deny it until her dying breath, but right then and there, there was no one else Ashe would've been happier to see.

Instead, she said, "I apologize for causing you distress."

"Hm. I don't think –"

With a gesture, Lissandra launched a veritable storm of ice shards at Thresh, cutting off his words. The jagged edges tore into his robe, but apart from that, seemed to annoy him more than hurt him.

"How rude," he growled.

"What is this?" Lissandra said. "You should not be here, reaper. You were never part of the Freljord's story."

"I beg to differ."

The ice littered around the room… shifted. A wave of pure cold pulsed out, and suddenly, everything was frozen. Ashe had only been caught in the fringes of the wave, but she was forced back, and a layer of frost coated her skin and clothing.

Thresh, on the other hand, was half encased in ice.

On a second glance, he didn't seem to be overly hurt – just angry. It was quite obvious, considering how the green, spectral flames ever-present around him were flaring.

Lissandra had managed to get upright, though the chains were still restricting her movement. Her lips were twisted in a sneer.

"Thresh," Ashe muttered, breaking the impasse. "This is useless. Her tribesmen have already made off with the egg. This is just a distraction."

Lissandra laughed, her body language settling into a veneer of poise. "Astute, sister," she said. "Perhaps it is time for me to take my leave, then."

With a wave of her hand, a disembodied, icy claw formed on the ground and glided away, passing through the wall like a ghost. Then, in the next moment, she simply wasn't there anymore. The chains clattered to the floor.

Ashe blinked. Then her adrenaline crashed, and she let out a breath that was half a sob.

"Why so upset?" Thresh asked.

She let out an incoherent sputter and sank to her knees. Being out of immediate danger, the full weight of the consequences of the events could no longer be held back.

"I am a fool," she whispered. She was dripping blood onto the ground, she processed distantly. That couldn't be good.

"You are? But hasn't your trust of Lissandra turned out so well?" Thresh mocked. "A lovely lady, she is. I can see why you would trust her with something so important, that you would even fail to tell me."

"Don't," she ground out.

"Don't what?"

"You know!"

"Hm. Usually when you tell me that, it's because I've done something you perceived as harming your chances to achieve peace," he continued. "But I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, considering these circumstances are solely. Due. To you. No?"

Ashe curled into herself, burying her face in her hands. Tears mixed with blood.

There was silence for a moment, but he kept talking. Of course he did.

"What a remarkably pathetic display, Ashe. Are you giving up? I'm disappointed."

She raised her head, her eyes narrowing into a glare. "What do you want?" she whispered. Her voice cracked. "I know I – this is –"

"So you are giving up? I had thought better of you," he said.

"I… no. I'm not."

"In that case, flagellation on the foolishness of your decisions can wait, no?" Thresh growled.

Right, yes. Things to be done. Could she even fix this? She had to try. Ashe hauled herself off the ground.

"If it, ah, makes you feel better, Elise had noted the rather suspicious flight of those guards," he said.

Wait, what? She clamped down on the hope rising in her chest. "What do you mean?"

"Considering how long it's been, she is most likely already engaged in a fight," he said. "Also, given how long she's been loitering around, I am reasonably sure Evelynn is with her."


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N: Wrapping up what I started in the last chapter, as well as this part of the story. Next chapter's gonna be an interlude. Everyone needs a breather, yeah?**

 **Hope I captured all the personalities well. It's a bit hard to keep everyone in character for non-oneshots. Also I suck with fights. If anyone has suggestions for edits, feel free to drop a review telling me about 'em.**

 **And of course, thanks for reading.**

* * *

 **XV – It's over when I say.**

The ice blocking off the door disappeared suddenly, receding as quickly as it had appeared. It was a mystery to ponder later, because as soon as Ashe opened the door, she was bombarded by a crowd of her guards and other worried people. The blood dripping from her wounds didn't help the situation.

"My queen, what is –"

"Are you alright?"

"We couldn't open the door, what –"

She raised her uninjured arm, cutting off the stream of questions. It was almost eerie, the speed with which they quieted.

"We have been betrayed," she said, her voice pitched to carry. "Lissandra has abused my trust to steal something incredibly important. I will not allow this to stand." Then she swayed, a sudden bout of dizziness overcoming her. Blood loss, probably.

A woman pushed her way through the crowd, carrying a roll of bandages. Right, binding the wounds would be a good idea. She extended her arm, then winced as the motion made dried blood come unstuck.

Another set of footsteps, and a muscular, sandy-haired man was at her side. It took far too long to register him as the captain of her guard she'd recently appointed, Erik.

"My queen, should we prepare for battle?" he asked, as the woman cleaned and bandaged her wounds.

She thought for a moment. The priority right now was to track down Lissandra's errant tribesmen, and with them Elise and Evelynn, and then take back Anivia's egg. Having warriors with her would help considerably, considering the likely fight that would ensue.

But, bringing anyone with her would put those people in a position to see her – friends? acquaintances? – from the Shadow Isles, and there was no way that could go well.

"My queen?" Erik said. He looked worried. Wait, how long had she been standing there without giving a response?

Ashe shook her head, and immediately regretted it as another wave of dizziness swept over her.

On second thought, however, why was she even debating this? Not bringing anyone would be the height of foolishness. Well, perhaps not the height, she'd already hit that, but the point stood.

She was in no condition to fight, and her concern should've been getting the egg back, not the opinions of anyone who might see Elise or Thresh.

"Yes," she replied, at last. "Gather a squad of warriors. Arm yourselves light, we must make haste. There are betrayers to catch."

Erik bowed, and ran off.

The woman treating her injuries tied a last knot and stepped back. "There. That's the best I can do under the circumstances," she said.

A bit late, Ashe recognized her as the tribe's healer. "Am I capable of battle?" she asked, flexing her arm experimentally. It still hurt, and the bandages covered most of her left side, but the motion wasn't overly restricted.

"Capable, yes," said the healer, frowning. "It'd be better to avoid it, milady, but with everything…"

She nodded in assent. "Thank you." If she could still draw her bow, then it was fine for now.

Ashe then walked away, heading for the place from which war parties were designated to set off. War. It wasn't, not yet, but if things continued in this vein…

"Aren't you forgetting something, archer?" asked Thresh.

She looked around. No, couldn't see him.

"Forgetting what?" she murmured.

"So you already know in which direction they all went?"

Ashe stopped in her tracks. That would be important, yes. Damn. The blood loss must have been getting to her more than she thought.

"If that is the case, you must have developed psychic powers while I wasn't looking," he said. "Then, Elise's efforts appear unnecessary."

A quiet chitter, coming from by her feet. She looked down, already knowing the source. And, yes, one of Elise's spiderlings sat on the ground beside her.

"That… will generate some questions," she sighed.

"Ah, yes. The people you're bringing. Are you certain that's wise?"

She frowned. "I need as much help as I can get."

"The most likely scenario, you realize, is that those two have handled the issue already, and that the people you bring will see… regrettable things," he said.

Ashe opened her mouth to complain about him not telling her that earlier, when something hit her. "Lissandra also went after them, did she not?"

There was no reply for a moment. "Yes. Yes, she did," Thresh muttered eventually. "That complicates things."

Her hands were shaking. She readjusted her grip on her bow so she wouldn't drop it.

"You – you are coming too, right?" she asked. "I mean, even if some people might see – you're coming with –" The words came out in a rush.

A snort. "Don't ask silly questions, archer. Of course I am."

* * *

They wanted to ask, Ashe could tell. They wanted to, but they didn't, only casting a few dubious glances at the spiderling they were running after.

It nearly made her sick. How could they trust her so much? She could be leading them to their deaths – probably was, considering Lissandra – and they didn't ask, they just followed. Followed her.

For better or worse, those thoughts were cut off as they neared what was unmistakably a battle site. Shouts and sounds of collisions resounded through the air, and Ashe could hear screeches and chirps underlying it all, signaling the presence of Elise's swarm.

The group's pace picked up. She forced her feet to cover ground faster, despite already feeling like throwing up.

The noises resolved into intelligible words as they approached.

"– have no stake in this!" someone was shouting. Lissandra. "What reason have you fools to involve yourself in the matters of the Freljord?"

"That is for us to know." Elise, that was Elise.

She crested a hill, and stopped dead.

Corpses. Corpses everywhere, all bearing the symbol of the Frostguard. They littered the ground, some strangled in silk, some nearly torn apart, some still leaking blood in other fluids.

And the spiders – the spiderlings were a skittering carpet of chitin. It nearly kept her attention from the confrontation taking place.

"So you show your face again, sister," said Lissandra, who'd apparently noticed her. "Do you believe you can fight me? Has the presence of these friends of yours inspired such arrogance?"

Ashe's attention turned toward her. With a sinking stomach, she noticed that Lissandra had the egg cradled in her right arm, held away from Elise, who stood opposite the witch.

Beside her, Erik asked, "My queen? What is – what does she mean? What are those?"

Good questions, she thought wryly.

"The only relevant information to know is that the woman made of ice is our enemy," she said quietly, instead of voicing that thought. "The egg she holds is an important artifact that she has stolen, and must be recovered."

After a second, he nodded. There would be further questions later, it was obvious, but for now she thanked the gods for the undeserved trust he had in her.

"Will you not surrender?" Ashe called out.

"Surrender?" Lissandra scoffed. "You have gotten rather arrogant."

She raised her bow, and the impasse broke.

Erik and the rest of her guards drew steel and charged. It was… probably not the best strategy, but she hadn't come up with any better ones.

She let her first volley of arrows loose. Lissandra – Lissandra moved, a blur of blue, blocking the projectiles and meeting the charging men with ice shards.

Suddenly, Elise was next to her. Ashe hadn't noticed her move.

"Lovely of you to join us," she said. This close, it was evident that she wasn't unharmed. Numerous scratches covered her body, the deepest ones bleeding black ichor.

"Are you alright?" Ashe asked, between arrows.

Elise shrugged. "I have been better. You make powerful enemies, dear."

She winced. She had to make it up to her later.

"Thresh said your friend was here, too. Evelynn. Is she –" she said.

"Around," said Elise, waving a hand. "Waiting for an opportunity, most likely. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go save those warriors of yours."

And then she changed, her form shifting into that of an enormous black spider, as tall as a human. She charged faster than anything the archer had ever seen, faster than Sejuani's boar, even, eight legs carrying her toward Lissandra, spiderlings in tow.

Ashe tore her attention away from her. In the time their short conversation had lasted, she noted grimly, several of her guards had fallen, throats torn open by ice. Lissandra had backed away a good distance, and the rest seemed hesitant to close in again.

Then Elise barreled into the Ice Witch, sheer speed making her a blur. Ashe didn't miss the opportunity to launch another arrow, this one with all her focused funneled into it. Her wounds didn't hamper her aim, and her target was left reeling. A small victory.

With Lissandra distracted for a moment, she was Erik lead the remaining guards in another charge. The closed the distance, and then things began to happen quickly.

Elise was launched bodily away by a wave of ice, formed by an annoyed Lissandra with spiderlings crawling all over her. Erik landed a two-handed sword strike on her opposite arm, the one holding the egg.

The egg tumbled toward the ground. Ashe's breath caught.

Then, out of nowhere, a female figure with blue skin and purple hair appeared, snatched the egg, and dashed off at frankly insane speeds. She was a few yards away when she faded, becoming invisible once more.

Lissandra let out an enraged screech.

A bad feeling prickled at the back of Ashe's neck. Up until now, she'd been preoccupied with keeping hold of the egg, but with that gone…

Ice pulsed out, freezing the warriors to the ground. Elise scuttled back, transforming back into human form. The woman with blue skin was still nowhere to be seen.

Too late, Ashe noticed the claw of ice gliding across the ground toward her. Wasn't that –

Lissandra blinked into existence right in front of her. "Do you think me incapable of killing you again, sister?" she snarled. She raised a hand, fingers curled into claws.

Ashe's heart jumped into her throat. She began to dash away. It wasn't going to be fast enough, she wasn't nearly fast enough anyway, and with her injuries –

A green glow around her, like a shield, and ice splashed off it like water.

"I didn't say you could do that," said Thresh. He was holding his lantern in the air, which appeared to be the source of the shield. Its contents were swirling, and she swore she could almost hear high, thin screams.

"You," Lissandra hissed.

"Me," he agreed. "Would you care to step away from my archer?"

"Your – the presumption – you should not even be here, reaper! You and yours have no business in the Freljord!"

"I beg to differ," Thresh said. "Now, will you leave, or will you persist in this futility?"

Ashe glanced around. The guards had largely gotten themselves unstuck from the ice, and were advancing warily on her position. Don't, she prayed silently.

Lissandra's lips twisted into a sneer, but it looked forced. "This is far from the end," she declared, turning to Ashe. "Mark my words, sister, I will ensure the cold claims you once more. Your little guard dog cannot always save you."

And then she was gone, but Ashe didn't let herself relax.

* * *

"Good riddance," Thresh scoffed.

Ashe shook her head. "That was – I mean –" She took a breath. "Thank you. Again."

"Hm. Do endeavor to cut down on these types of situations in the future, archer."

She smiled bitterly. "I shall try," she said.

Several yards away, she noticed Erik standing around, looking apprehensive. He started toward her, then seemed to rethink his intentions and stopped. How lovely. She really did not want to deal with that conversation.

"All this trouble for a shiny bauble," came a low, female voice beside her. "Though, it is rather pretty."

Ashe turned, too tired to startle. The blue-skinned woman who'd disappeared stood next to her, holding up the egg to examine with a critical eye. For the first time, she noticed how little she was wearing – how had this woman not frozen to death?

"Not a bauble," she said. "It is the egg of the guardian of the Freljord."

The woman shrugged, giving the egg a last look before handing it off to Ashe, who took it gingerly.

"So you've made yourself useful, Evelynn," said Thresh. "Unprecedented." Oh, so this was Evelynn, after all.

Evelynn sniffed disdainfully. "I don't think I asked you your opinion, Thresh." She then peered more closely at the archer, an unnerving smile finding its way onto her face. "Well, now," she said, her voice taking on sultry undertones, "who might you be?"

"Evelynn. No," said Elise. She was making her way up the hill. Her interruption was timely, given Thresh seemed about to explode from rage.

Evelynn frowned. "Why –"

"Not for you."

"Who?" she asked, then glanced at Thresh. "You can't possibly mean –"

Ashe's eyebrows furrowed. Exhaustion was making it difficult to follow the conversation, a fact she just knew she'd regret later.

"Thresh, yes," Elise replied.

"Really? I thought he'd never –"

"You and me both, dear."

"If you're quite finished," Thresh growled, "there are more important matters to be addressed."

"Oh, are there?" said Evelynn, tilting her head to the side.

There were always important things to take care of. But in this particular situation…

"It's not over," Ashe said. "Lissandra is angry, and I don't think her to be one to let things go easily."

"That fits with my impression of her," Elise agreed. "Also, while we took care of her warriors that were present, I am not naïve enough to think she does not have more."

Ashe bit her lip. "You – yes, that's right, but I have to ask – why did you help me? I shudder to think of what might have happened had you not, but why?"

"Don't ask silly questions," said Elise, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, you are adorable," Evelynn cooed. Her hands were clasped under her chin.

"I find it best to not question their motives," Thresh muttered. "There are depths of madness even I do not wish to understand."

Was that – did he just make a joke?

She sighed. "It's been a long day. If you'll excuse me, I need to go back to Rakelstake, and then hopefully get a chance to rest.

Evelynn giggled and whispered something in Elise's ear. She… probably didn't want to know, did she?

* * *

"My queen," Erik began, approaching Ashe as soon as she was alone. "May I have a minute of your time?"

She turned to him. The rest of the guards were hanging back. Apparently, their captain had been elected their spokesperson.

"What is it?" she sighed. The day's highs and lows had left her wrung out. She just wanted to return to her bed and sleep – was that such a crime?

"Forgive my bluntness," he said, and Ashe cringed at what was obviously coming, "but what in the hells was that? What are those… creatures?"

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Erik," she said, "I am deeply grateful for the trust and respect you've given me, but please. Do not ask me this right now."

Erik scowled. "My queen, I –"

"Please," she repeated. "If you must, ask me again tomorrow. I simply cannot – I understand your feelings, but not now, I implore you."

He didn't speak for a moment. Ashe sighed quietly and made to leave.

"I've lived in the Freljord all my life," Erik said, all of a sudden, "but my mother hasn't. She moved here from Bilgewater."

Bilgewater? Oh. Oh, no.

"She's told me why. It was the Harrowings. She never could deal with them, but when Father was killed… she was pregnant, by that time, but she packed up and put as much distance as she could between her and that place."

There was no way this was going to end well.

"She told me stories. About those awful nights, to make sure I never went back," he finished. "So, forgive me, my queen, but I wonder."

Ashe closed her eyes. "There is nothing to forgive."

She wanted to say, sometimes I wonder too. But she didn't. It wouldn't help.

* * *

All Ashe wanted was to rest, to sleep – she could sort out the tangle of emotions and consequences later. So, naturally, her rest would be held off.

Her bed was right there. She looked at it longingly, then turned her gaze to the one who dared stand between it and her.

"What is it now?" she grumbled.

"What gives you the impression there is something?" said Thresh.

Her eyes narrowed. "If there is not," she bit out, "then I fail to see why you are preventing my rest."

"Fair enough, I suppose." He paused. "How did your little talk with that guard go?"

Of course. "Wonderful. Perfectly, in fact," Ashe muttered, sinking into a nearby chair. It was a poor substitute for a bed, but that was unavailable for the moment.

"I believe I have said sarcasm doesn't suit you, archer," Thresh said.

"Oh, speak plainly for once."

"Well, then. That one – and the rest of your guards present, too – they will be trouble. There is no explanation you can give that will appease them."

She brought her hands up to massage her temples. "I – I realize, alright? I don't want – what would you even have me do, then?"

"Are you asking my opinion?" he said, grinning. "In that case, the solution is hardly complicated."

Wait. Wait a minute. "If you're about to suggest I kill them, please refrain," Ashe said flatly.

"I would never. But now that you mention it, it would indeed make things far simpler."

Thresh walked up behind her chair. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Though she couldn't see him, she could sense his scrutiny.

"Just… no," she managed. "Please. Don't."

To her surprise, he actually dropped the subject. "There is one other thing," he said.

Ashe tipped her head back to look at him. "What?" she sighed.

"It's not over."

What? She'd said that earlier, hadn't she? What was he getting at?

"I had said that, yes," she said, apprehensive.

"And you realize that woman controls the tribe you call the Frostguard, correct?" Thresh said.

She crowned. Of course Lissandra – oh. Lissandra controlled the Frostguard. That implied unfortunate things about the tribe that was widely considered noble.

His grin grew. "And if I judge it correctly, she now holds a grudge against you for the, ah, humiliation she recently suffered."

"Oh, is that so?" Ashe muttered. But inside her head, the gears were turning.

"I'd think the death threats to be a clue."

Lissandra had a tribe – and with that, an army – and a reason to hate her. Not a good combination at all.

"We… have a problem," she breathed.

"You don't say."

"I'd be surprised if she doesn't launch an attack soon, at this point," she said. "But we can't afford – afford war with the Frostguard. Even if we win, Sejuani is still waiting, for us to lose strength, to show weakness. The Winter's Claw will take the chance to decimate us, should we put our resources into fighting Lissandra." She buried her face in her hands. "I haven't forgotten what Sejuani said. I doubt she has either."

"Quite the dilemma you have here," Thresh commented. "It seems to me it would serve you well if, oh, the Frostguard suddenly suffered a tragedy that left it unable to sustain an assault. Or even itself."

Ashe's jaw dropped. "You – but –"

He stalked around to the front of her chair, catching her gaze. "But what, Ashe?" he said softly. "But they're innocent? You're not that dense. Do you honestly believe they are complicit in nothing? Do you think, with Lissandra as their leader, they have remained –" he sneered, "innocent?"

"Perhaps my idealism would like to think that," she said, looking down, "even if I know it to be implausible. But innocent or not, complicit or not, they…"

"What, do you think I'm suggesting the massacre of the entire tribe?" Thresh said. "You know better. That would be incredibly messy and inefficient, not to mention difficult to pull off."

"How comforting."

"Why dispose of all of them when the sudden… lack of a smaller fraction would solve your issue just as well?"

"I note your avoidance of the term 'death'," Ashe said, propping her chin on her hand.

He laughed. "So you do."

She waited for the horror, the disgust to hit her, but it never came. She should've cared more. She would've cared more, probably, without the fog of exhaustion dulling everything, right?

"I take your lack of refusal as implicit approval."

And there was a part of her, perhaps a larger part than she'd have liked to admit, that just wanted to see Lissandra hurt, everything else be damned. It was buried under her own pain and betrayal and self-loathing at her idiocy. But in the end –

"She was my friend," Ashe whispered, and there was a note of something broken in her voice. "She was my friend, and I trusted her, and why – why?" She curled up in her chair, wrapping her arms around her legs.

He'd probably make a caustic remark. She waited. It didn't come, and the tears that trailed down her cheeks did so in silence.

She'd hoped to put off the emotional breakdown for later. Just wonderful.

A sigh, and a cold hand came to rest on her head. "Go sleep, Ashe," said Thresh.

"Thank you," she whispered. She wasn't sure what she was thanking him for, but… it hurt a little less.


	17. Interlude Two

**A/N: Eheh… funny seeing you here? So I said I'd be taking a break after last chapter, but I decided to put it off one more chapter. The interlude just wraps up everything, so I think it'd be a better place to stop.**

 **I'm not sure how many chapters this story's gonna be in total. I don't think it'll be more than thirty. I wanna at least get it done before summer vacation's over.**

 **Thanks for reading. Drop a review if you have a moment.**

* * *

 **Interlude Two – Consequences**

Several hours had passed by the time Thresh was able to return to Rakelstake. It would have been longer, but Evelynn had crossed his path on his way to that woman's tribe, and insisted on accompanying him. Nothing he said would dissuade her.

"Oh, but this is what I do best," she'd said, as sickeningly sweet as always. "Would you be so cruel as to deny me it?" She was pouting.

Of course, she'd follow even if he refused, and it would be far more difficult to keep watch on her if that happened. Literally and figuratively.

In the end, her delightful company meant that more of the mortals simply died, and he'd had far fewer chances to… cut loose.

Not even a day in her presence, and he was reminded why he found her so aggravating.

When he returned, the archer was asleep, though far from peacefully. Her blankets had been half thrown on the floor, and her hair was a mess of tangles. As he watched, she rolled onto her back, then her front again, a sheen of sweat visible on her skin.

Perhaps he should wake her?

He shook his head. Where had that thought come from?

The decision was taken out of his hands. Ashe's eyes snapped open, unnoticeable had he not been watching and she sat up gingerly, the sheets clinging to her figure.

"Thresh?" she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

"Who else?" he said.

"Oh." She leaned back against the bed's headboard, staring off into the gloom. It was night, but not truly dark. It probably had something to do with it being summer in the Freljord.

The archer seemed to be thinking about something. Thresh didn't feel inclined to break the silence, so he didn't ask, and neither said anything for a good while.

"I can't fall asleep again," she said eventually.

Couldn't sleep? "Weren't you going on about how you wanted rest earlier?" he asked, mildly curious.

Ashe blushed. "Nightmares," she admitted. "I don't want – I mean –" She shook her head. "Just… nightmares."

"Hm." Nightmares. How quaint.

"I – I'm not alright, right now," she continued without prompt. "I feel as if… as if I'm standing on cracking ice, or at the edge of a precipice in high winds."

Close to a breaking point, then. Thresh had personally seen the emotion she described many times, and it was commonly followed by the person snapping oh so delightfully.

But… it was slightly disappointing, here. He'd been having so much fun needling her, seeing how far he could push her and observing her reactions. It would be upsetting if, after such a short time – though, how long had it been? Nearly half a year, now. Not as short a time as he had thought, then.

The archer was eyeing him warily. She was probably expecting a comment of some sort.

"Then don't fall," he said. "It would be terribly disappointing."

"And gods forbid I disappoint," Ashe said, rolling her eyes. Ah, yes, there it was. The sarcasm.

She lay down again, pulling the discarded quilts and furs back over her. Another silence ensued for several minutes.

"I still cannot sleep," she told him, after a while.

"This is my problem, how?"

She sighed. "I don't know. Hm… tell me a story?"

A what? "Tell you a story?" he asked incredulously.

"You did the same while I was ill, no?"

So she did remember that, after all. And he'd believed her to have no memory of that period of time. Wonderful.

"Shall I go fetch one of your children's stories, then?" he said.

"What? No, not those." She was blushing again. "You've lived – existed – for a long time, haven't you? You must have some interesting tales to tell."

Well, yes, but most were hardly suited for… bedtime stories. Though, come to think of it, hadn't he promised to tell her about his own past? He grimaced. Why had he done that?

She probably didn't recall that he had said that, with all the excitement that took place shortly thereafter. But, still.

"There once was a place called the Blessed Isles," he began, half faking reluctance. "And on these Blessed Isles, there was an order tasks with guarding the secrets of the islands…"

* * *

Deep in the mountains of the northern Freljord, where concepts such as summer and warmth had no grip and no sane human ever set foot, Lissandra screamed.

Ice grew and shattered and grew again in twisted patterns, shaking the mountainside and knocking loose blankets of snow that had there laid untouched for years. An ominous rumble echoed across the slopes, but the imminent avalanche went unnoticed.

"Damn that foolish little girl!" Lissandra cursed. "Damn her and her – her attack dogs, and the day she turned her back on the Watchers! I should have left her out in the cold to freeze the moment she left our mother's womb!"

Should have killed her far earlier. But her dear sister had been so – so trusting, so naïve, so – nice –

They weren't children anymore. They had not been children for a long, long time, and if Avarosa wanted to pretend that they were – her and Avarosa and Serylda and we're always going to be together, aren't we, I promise, I promise – that they had no history of ice and death and betrayal – well. Then she was a fool, and Lissandra would take full advantage of that.

And she had, hadn't she? A golden opportunity… but she'd grown so complacent in Avarosa's little game of pretend, she hadn't thought sister dearest was prepared for when Lissandra struck. It was inevitable, of course, but she hadn't thought, with the way her sister had behaved – so soft…

Soft. Lissandra screamed again, incoherently, plastering the cave's walls with another layer of frost. Outside, ice and snow thundered down the slopes, scouring the rock with a deafening roar.

Soft. Lissandra had changed much, over the years, and she had thought Avarosa had not. Everything about her behavior suggested it.

Soft.

Nearly half the Frostguard were dead. The tribe she'd spent generations building, molding to her needs, ravaged in a night. Almost all the warriors had vanished mysteriously – vanished mysteriously! – and the craftsmen, the tanners and blacksmiths, the hunters and healers were found with their throats ripped open and pierce wounds tearing apart their bodies.

Among the ruins, she had sworn to bring about her dear sister's death again, even if she had to do it herself.

The Frostguard had been gutted. Oh, she could rebuild them, but it would take many decades, centuries, even. Would it be worth it? The effort involved in reacquiring people with the necessary skills to support a tribe, not to mention waiting for the population to increase again to the point where she could have an effective fighting force…

The noises of the avalanche died down, and with it, Lissandra's rage cooled to something more manageable. Yes, she had failed to take advantage of the Cryophoenix's window of vulnerability. Yes, the Frostguard tribe was a loss, and yes, she had lost the initiative.

But. She was patient, like the cold, like winter. The Watchers still waited, and they would return eventually. She would ensure it. And Avarosa, or Ashe as she now called herself – Lissandra sneered, why did her sister still bother with the charade – would die. Not yet, perhaps not soon, but one day.

The type of strength that lay in servants, an army at her back – that could be rebuilt. Lissandra's personal power, her magic, her immortality, the gifts that made her Iceborn, that had never been lost, and could never be taken away.

She took a deep breath. It was out of neither necessity not habit, but it still helped calm her.

She could rebuild. She would rebuild. And she would kill her dear sister, oh yes. No one could remain vigilant forever.

… now that she thought about it, hadn't she hidden a vault of artifacts and weapons nearby, in these mountains? Those would be of use in her endeavor. Perhaps she should go check on it. The true ice club, especially, was valuable…

* * *

Ionia was beautiful in the evenings, especially the coastal area they were in. The setting sun streaked orange and red and violet on the horizon, and the ocean reflected it all. Still, Lucian couldn't find it in himself to appreciate it.

"Look, dear," said Senna, pointing. "I think they're selling tabloids."

He grunted, pointedly looking in the other direction. "One time," he grumbled. "It was one time."

"Oh, don't tell me you're still hung up about that."

"I'm not," he muttered.

"But you have been brooding lately. More so than usual, that is."

"It's not – you know what it is!" Lucian said. "I still can't believe we let her get away!"

"It was the Widowmaker, to be fair. And that spider woman showed up to help her," Senna pointed out.

He scowled. "That's what I mean. That was our chance to rid the world of two of those monsters from the Shadow Isles! With how long it took to track down the Widowmaker in the first place…"

"I don't think that tea shop owner will ever forgive us," Senna said lightly. "Though, I suppose I do see your point."

"They were right there! And they managed to get away!"

She laid a hand on his arm.

"I wasn't strong enough," Lucian finished quietly.

"We," she corrected. "We were not strong enough."

"What – yes. We weren't."

Senna sighed. "We weren't, but we can always train and become stronger," she said. "The most important thing is that both of us are alive. I know you're annoyed, but as long as we're alive, there will be more chances."

"None as good as this one was," he argued, but his irritation started dissipating.

"You don't know that," she said, shaking her head. "But, Lucian – don't think for a second that I didn't notice how many close calls you and I had in that fight."

He scowled. "I'm fine now."

"You are, and you might not be had you pushed yourself any more," she said. "Please realize something. As much as I want this world rid of those creatures, I want you alive and well, and with me, more."

Lucian looked down, something uncomfortable roiling in his stomach. He knew that, of course, but it was sometimes too easy to keep that thought at a distance while he was focused on the hunt.

"… yes, I know," he replied.

Senna patted his arm. "Thank you," she said. "Anyway, on the bright side, as we're both fully recovered by now, we can finally check out of that hotel we've been staying in. I know how much you hated that manager."

The insane hotel manager was, in fact, the reason why they were out on an evening walk in the first place. He grimaced. Facing down hordes of undead was one thing, but that old woman… waking up halfway through the night to a crash and her voice screeching at someone a floor below was not pleasant. And it hadn't even been directed at him that time.

"What's going on over there?" Senna wondered.

"Hm?"

"There's an awful lot of commotion by that dock. I wonder what it's about."

Lucian looked over, prompted by someone suddenly starting shouting. A small crowd was gathering around the source of the yelling, a heavyset man dressed in several layers of furs. Odd, considering how warm it was, being summer.

Senna picked her way over. She was holding his hand, so he followed. Without resistance – he was vaguely curious himself.

The obviously-foreign man was still yelling. As they got close, the words slowly became easier to make out.

"– all dead… reaper, and I ran… monsters slaughtered them! I couldn't do anything else!" he was saying.

Lucian exchanged a glance with his wife, and they hurried closer.

"What the hell are you going on about?" a spectator exclaimed. "You crazy? Monsters?"

"I am not insane!" the foreigner screamed.

They had made their way to the front of the crowd by then. Up close, the foreigner seemed even stranger. He looked tired, worn, like he hadn't had rest recently, and his eyes were haunted, the impression amplified by the dark shadows under them. A symbol Lucian didn't recognize was stitched onto the sleeve of his coat.

"What's going on?" Senna said, to no one in particular.

A nearby woman – slender, long red hair, two guns holstered at her sides – scoffed. "Don't ask me," she said. "He's been ranting about how his tribe got killed by some ghost and a blue woman."

A blue – Lucian's eyes widened. The woman walked off, expression vaguely displeased, but he paid her no mind.

"Senna," he muttered.

"Yes, I know. How many blue women can there be, after all?" she said grimly.

"We have to question him," he hissed. "If it is the Widowmaker – and since his tribe was killed –"

"Yes, of course."

He started toward the man, but Senna's hand held him back. He shot her a questioning look.

"Everyone's attention is on him right now," she said, "but they seem to be getting bored." She gestured to the slowly dispersing crowd. "If we wait a minute or so, we should be able to do it with less fuss."

He nodded in assent.

True to her predictions, the crowd did disperse as the novelty of the scene waned. Soon, no one was paying much attention to the strange foreigner anymore.

Lucian walked up to him.

Upon noticing his presence, the foreigner whirled on him. "What do you want?" he snarled. "Here to mock me as well?"

"What? No, of course not," he replied. "I just intended to ask you a few questions. You said your – tribe? – was killed by a… blue woman?"

The man laughed. It was short, almost like a bark, and held a crazed sort of edge.

"Yes, her," he mumbled, eye twitching. "That one and the reaper, and they killed them, and they're dead. Why are they all dead."

"Who is dead?" Senna asked cautiously.

The foreigner turned his scowl to her. "Who is dead?" he repeated, voice rising hysterically. "Who is dead? They're dead, but they fought, and so did I, and they all fell because they were monsters and I ran because they thought I died too and there was no one! There was no one anymore!" He was shouting again, by the end.

Lucian took a step back. "Are you saying your entire, er, tribe is dead?"

The man growled incoherently, his hands clenching into fists. "Can't know. I ran! I couldn't – I didn't – I am no coward!" he yelled. "Dead – how many – only the Watchers might know –"

"We're not going to get anything else out of him, dear," Senna whispered in his ear. "He's started to babble. We should find out where he came from and then leave."

Probably a good idea. The foreigner seemed seconds away from exploding, and Lucian didn't want to be anywhere near when that happened.

"Where did this occur?" he asked. "Where are you from?"

"Where?" the man breathed. "There. Home. And I can't go back. Can never go back. They'll find me. Hunt me down too."

Lucian frowned. "That doesn't help us."

"The Freljord!" roared the man, causing a flinch. "Freljord! Southern part – tundra. Frostguard. Lissandra…"

Senna caught Lucian's arm again and pulled him away, toward the other docks.

"I suppose we're going on a trip to the Freljord," he said, once they were a good distance away.

"I suppose we are," she said brightly. "I've never been before. What is it like?"

"Cold?" Lucian shrugged. "Senna, we really should be serious."

"I am," she replied. "I just – dear, are we ready for this? To confront those… things again?"

"Of course we are. We can do this."

Senna sighed, a brief melancholy flickering over her features. It passed quickly. "Yes, we're perfectly capable, as long as I'm there to pull your behind out of the fire," she teased.


End file.
